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She looked up with a half-smile of recognition. 

Chap. XII. page 122. 



THE VITAL TOUCH 


A STORT OF 
THE POWER OF LOVE 


BY 


FRANCES M. SCHNEBLY 

Author ©f ••The Cynic/' ••An Open Secret/' ••The 
Prospectors " and other stories 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARLAN TARBELL 



CHICAGO 

LAIRD & LEE, Publishers 


Copyright, 1912 
By William H, Lee 


All Rights Reserved. 




gCI.A314829 


CONTENTS 


Chapter 



PAGE 

I. 

A May-day Ramble, 



7 

II. 

Carol, .... 



23 

III. 

Dreams of Fair Women, 



30 

IV. 

Domestic Infelicity, 



38 

V. 

On to Lynnwood, . 



46 

VI. 

Life Is What We Make It, 



52 

VII, 

The Storm 



58 

VIII. 

Awakened Womanhood, 



70 

IX. 

The Coming of Love, . 



86 

X. 

A Serious Wound, 



103 

XI. 

Desolation, 



117 

XII. 

The Sacrifice, 



121 

XIII. 

The Green-eyed Monster that 

Makes 



THE Meat It Feeds On, 



124 

XIV. 

An Unexpected Meeting, 



132 

XV. 

Home Again, 



142 

XVI. 

A Struggle, 



147 

XVII. 

Alois 



155 

XVIII. 

The Priest’s Story, . 



174 

XIX. 

Love’s Pilgrim, . , 



185 

XX. 

Scenes Abroad, . 



194 

XXI. 

The Interview, . 



203 

XXII. 

News From Across the Ocean, 



212 

XXIII. 

The Return of the Pilgrim, 



222 

XXIV. 

Bride Roses, 



229 

XXV. 

The Second Coming of Love, 



231 

XXVI. 

Just As It Should Be, 



240 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

“She Looked Up with a Half-Smile of Recogni- 
tion” ..... Frontispiece 

“Almost Magnetized by Dread, She Gazed at 
Her Name Written in Practiced, Elegant 
Characters” 152 

Father Vlgnon Clinched the Argument with the 

Retort: “Because It is Not True” . . 162 ^ 

“Merciful God! The Pains of a Veritable Hell 
Could Not Exceed the Torture of This 
Suspense” 219 


THE VITAL TOUCH 


CHAPTER I 

A MAY-DAY RAMBLE 

In one of the beautiful homes overlooking 
Gordon Park in the Forest City of Ohio, 
Janey Lohr sat in a low chair by a window. 
She bent over a piece of white linen, so in- 
tent upon her work that she missed the 
quick step which passed and entered the hall 
through the open door. A gentle rap 
aroused her and a cheery voice piped out: 

‘Tretty lady, may I come in? Pm a 
neighboring nymph returning from the 
sports of the wildwood.’’ 

‘^The voice of Carol Rutherford pitched 
to high C! which tells me that the ‘neigh- 
boring nymph’ must have been practicing 
on the Pipes of Pan,” Janey answered gaily. 

And Carol, with the morning bloom upon 
her, rustled across the room like a refresh- 
ing breeze. Her face was sparkling rather 
than beautiful. Her fresh color, her bright 
brown eyes and rippling golden-brown hair 
7 


The Vital Touch 


suggested sunlight and open air. The 
mouth bespoke her two distinctive traits — 
simplicity and frankness. It inclined at the 
corners to upward curves which seemed 
ready always to curl into a smile, and the 
smile into a laugh. She was delightfully 
good to look at, for hers was one of those 
splendid, young, magnetic bodies which ra- 
diate health and animation. 

The salubrious effect of her presence 
reached Janey. 

“It will do me heaps of good to see you, 
Tm cross and headachey. Where have you 
been?” said she. 

“I’ve been over on the hill on the other 
side of the park for ever so long. I’ve had 
such a glorious walk,” Carol answered, tak- 
ing the work out of Janey’s hands and run- 
ning her fingers around the intricate design. 
“How can you sit here this beautiful morn- 
ing when a thousand voices are calling you 
out?” 

“It’s hardly kind to tell me about your 
nice walk after you’ve gone and had it,” said 
Janey with a childish pout of the lips. “It’s 
like hinting of a sumptuous feast to a starv- 
ing man.” The pout became a smile. “Per- 
haps you’ll be going again?” 

“I’ll be goin’ agin’ this mornin’ if you’ll 
be goin’ too,” said Carol with a pretty 


9 


A May-Day Ramble 

brogue, and tipping Janey’s dimpled chin 
as she spoke. 

“Then I’m yours for the frolic! But 
aren’t you awfully tired?” 

“Not at all. Why should I be tired? I 
go no further than I please, linger where 
I’m attracted, rest when I feel like resting; 
and now I’m going home to appease an ap- 
petite like that of the hungriest Titan that 
ever lived. Meet me on the road between 
the gates in one hour from this minute, will 
you?” 

“Indeed I will. I suppose I should have 
sat here stupidly all morning long if you 
hadn’t come.” 

“The idea of you sitting stupidly, you 
Will-o’-th’-wisp!” returned Carol, smiling 
over her shoulder as she hurried away. 

They met according to agreement and 
chatted as they passed along the road-side 
and out into the beautiful, blooming world. 

They had no objective point as they meas- 
ured the vast expanse of green, yet Carol’s 
firm, steady gait seemed to indicate a cer- 
tain direction, and her pretty companion 
followed with a confidence gained from 
years of association. Carol Rutherford rev- 
erenced the simplest manifestation of na- 
ture. She saw a winged purpose in the 
flight of every bird, an infinite meaning in 


lO 


The Vital Touch 

the form of every flower. The flowers 
Janey loved best served their highest pur- 
pose when they adorned her person or con- 
tributed in some way to her material ad- 
vantage. 

And had their temperaments been any 
less dissimilar, this veracious little story 
would never have been told. 

While Carol, the adopted child of her 
father’s sister. Miss Helen Rutherford, had 
been guided carefully through years of 
training, Janey, the idol of the Nichols’ 
household, was indulged in every whim, 
and grew up as petted and spoiled as she 
was pretty and vivacious. 

At eighteen, she was betrothed to Richard 
Lohr, a man of mature age. Notwithstand- 
ing the disparity of years, her parents con- 
sented to their marriage, provided it should 
be deferred until Janey’s twentieth birthday. 

Then came the brilliant church wedding, 
the parting for the first time between 
mother and daughter and an extended tour 
abroad. In Paris, Mr. Lohr was thrown 
from a vehicle and instantly killed. Fate 
had not been relentless in its awful visitation 
for it left a ministering angel to watch over 
its lonely victim. Adjoining the Lohr’s 
suite of rooms was one occupied by a French 


A May-Day Ramble 1 1 

diplomat and his young wife. The ladies 
had met by accident, and Madame J acquard 
was as delighted with the pretty American 
bride as Janey was with the brilliant French 
woman. When Mr. and Mrs. Nichols ar- 
rived in Paris, they were relieved to find 
that their daughter had rallied somewhat 
from the shock under the soothing influence 
of this good friend. 

They buried Richard Lohr in Germany 
where his parents had been laid to rest many 
years before. Janey being in delicate con- 
dition, the Nichols family were forced to 
remain in Paris several months, and their 
relations with Madame Jacquard grew 
closer each day. 

“I have two brothers in the United States, 
not so very far from your home, with whom 
I wish you to make friends. One is a priest, 
the other, a student,” said she to her new 
acquaintances, smiling through her tears at 
parting. 

Janey, overhearing her remark, answered 
sadly, “Dearest Hortense, your brothers 
shall be my brothers.” 

“And we shall lose no time in putting in 
our claim for that distinction,” added Mr. 
Nichols, with genuine sincerity. 

And it came to pass, as we shall see, that 
an old Scotch Presbyterian family received, 


12 


The Vital Touch 


in intimate association, a Catholic mission- 
ary priest and his student brother. 

Time had dimmed the memory of Janey’s 
early sorrow, and her heart was never so 
free as on this May morning when she and 
her neighboring friend walked forth in the 
midst of budding nature. 

Presently they arrived at the end of the 
rolling country, where the wave-like undu- 
lations of earth broke against the great hills. 

“Which way now?” inquired Carol. 

Janey pointed backward. 

“Let’s not go back! Do you know, I 
never see a towering hill like this, or that, on 
which, as I told you, I spent an hour this 
morning, without wanting to climb to the 
top? I like to see what lies beyond it.” 

“Yes, I know all that,” said Janey as they 
ascended. “It’s a kind of forecast of your 
career, this reconnoitering habit of yours. 
Your friends expect great things of you. I 
can’t for a minute imagine you loving, mar- 
rying and having children like other folks.” 

“And why not, pray? Surely there’s 
nothing greater than that.” 

“It’s the fashion to say so,” Janey replied, 
“just as it’s the fashion for all men to talk 
about the glory of being a woman and all the 
while thanking God that the accident of 


13 


A May-Day Ramble 

birth made them men. Marriage is a de- 
lusive affair, like an October day. The sun 
threatens to burn us up at its noon-day heat, 
but soon the little clouds that bank up 
against the bright blue sky, grow larger and 
darker and the fitful gusts that sweep 
through the air are signs of dismal days to 
come.’’ 

‘‘You of all girls to talk like that!” said 
Carol. 

“Oh, they are only random words, don’t 
take them too seriously,” answered Janey 
flippantly. 

“When people talk at random upon so 
serious a subject as marriage, it is because 
the argument pleases them and they want to 
keep it up. Are you thinking of taking an- 
other sail on the matrimonial sea?” 

Janey started and her face, which the 
Great Artist had painted a delicate pink, 
turned to vivid red. 

*^Bon voyage/* voyage/* 

laughed Carol. 

She quickened her step and a few paces 
brought her to the summit of the hill. 

“Look at the gypsy camp 1” she exclaimed. 
“I was sure there would be something up 
here.” 

“Gypsies?” crie3 Janey. “Oh, good! 
Now’s the time to find out what’s what and 


14 


The Vital Touch 


who’s who. There’s nothing I dote on half 
so much as having my fortune told. Will 
you go, Carol?” 

^Tes.” 

“And have yours told too.” 

“Not I, dearie.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I shouldn’t believe a word of 
it.” 

“I shall believe only what I care to.” 

“Then why bother about it?” 

“It’s so fascinating!” 

“Well here comes your fortune-teller 
clothed in the mystery of a Sibylline oracle,” 
said Carol, as a woman in flame colored tog- 
gery approached, presenting a strange con- 
trast to the vivid greens of young Spring’s 
raiment. 

By a series of comic gestures on Janey’s 
part and many contortions and bowings and 
complimentary salutes on the part of the 
woman (in lieu of another language in com- 
mon,) they came to terms, and Carol 
threaded her way alone through the cool 
woods. 

Soon she came to a deep ravine that fur- 
rowed its way in serpentine fashion between 
the jutting hills. The bent form of a child 
at play attracted her. He was making a 
bridge of stones across a little freshet, ut- 


A May ‘Day Ramble 

terly oblivious to every other earthly thing. 
At last, after viewing his achievement with 
evident satisfaction, he proceeded to cross, 
balancing himself with his outstretched 
hands — o n e — two — three — four — five — six 
steps, and he reached the opposite side, with 
no less victory in his heart than had the war- 
rior who crossed the Rubicon long ages ago. 
He would add another stone to his structure, 
the largest of all, for he had grown very 
strong and proud in one short morning, and 
now tugged away with might and main at a 
boulder almost as large as himself, that set- 
tled its full weight in the ravine with 
obstinate adherence. Then a woman’s 
piercing halloa from the crest of the hill 
summoned him, but the preoccupied little 
fellow only muttered some inarticulate 
thing and worked on busier than before. 
Again the shrill mandate shot through the 
woods and echoed into space unheeded. A 
third call came, and a fourth, and although 
the voice was this time dangerously near, the 
babbling air alone made answer. 

With a splash and an oath the woman 
grabbed at the unsuspecting child. Like 
boys of all conditions, with an eel-like pro- 
pensity for wriggling out of one’s reach, he 
was off like a shot. The mother set out in 
hot pursuit, and was gaining at every step in 


i6 


The Vital Touch 


the race. A few seconds later she clutched 
him under her brawny arm, and to Carol’s 
surprise and relief administered very light 
justice on her offending offspring, as she 
bore him homeward with his dirty little legs 
waving rebelliously in the air. The spark 
of mother love was burning in her rugged 
breast. 

The valley was wondrous fair! “No won- 
der the child with his unperverted instincts 
loves to be here,” thought Carol. She looked 
about her. Clusters of star-shaped flowers 
nestled upon the warm bosom of mother 
earth; myriads of purple blossoms made the 
air fragrant; the woods had many strange 
secrets when tree whispered to tree and the 
lights and shadows smiled and frowned. 
How she loved that magical nature! in the 
midst of which she and the wandering child 
were forces not less complex than its most 
inscrutable mystery. 

On and on she walked through the sun- 
beams and the shadows, like an animated 
spirit of the woods, stirred by the thrill of 
life and quite forgetful of time. 

At last she was about to retrace her steps 
when a quick beat fell upon the earth and 
in a moment Janey appeared fretting and 
panting. 

“I’m nearly frightened to death,” said she 


A May-Day Ramble 17 

peevishly. “I hate prowling about vacant 
woods anyway. Why did you leave me?” 

“Because I forgot you. It wasn’t very 
nice of me, was it?” 

As they descended the great hill Carol 
remarked, 

“You mentioned having had a letter from 
Madame Jacquard this morning.” 

“Yes; she is expecting Father Vignon.” 

“Madame Jacquard has but few relatives, 
I believe you said.” 

“Oh, very few. Really her two ^Amer- 
ican’ brothers, as she calls them, are her 
only blood relatives. Poor Hortense! she 
feels the separation keenly. I often wonder 
if I shall ever again see her.” 

“Didn’t the Gypsy settle all those little 
doubts?” 

“Not quite; but she told me a fine fortune 
and I believe every word of it. She said I 
was soon to be married.” 

“And you believe that, too?” 

“Of course I’ll marry. I must, I’m so 
helplessly dependent.” 

“You will always have your little Lau- 
rence, I hope.” 

“And he will have some one else some 
day. Do you expect to marry?” 

“Oh dear me, I don’t know! I should be 
disposed to, I think,” returned Carol, “but 


i8 


The Vital Touch 


my full heart must go with my hand. I 
don’t know why I shouldn’t love, marry and 
have children — why everyone shouldn’t — 
since that is the law of life, the great basic 
principle of the universe.” 

Her eyes glided over the semi-circle of 
green hills upon which the trees bent to- 
ward one another, nodding their heads in 
common recognition. She quickly caught 
the confirmation of her thought in this sym- 
bol of nature, and continued : 

“All forms of organized life are bound by 
laws that give them order and spiritual 
meaning. Everywhere we see nature resolv- 
ing itself into dualities; and since attraction 
is the basis of creative force, sex is the uni- 
versal form, and life the universal result.” 

“My goodness, how profound you are!” 
sighed Janey. 

“Am I?” said Carol indifferently. 

They were now passing the gypsy camp. 
The migratory impulse being astir, all hands 
were preparing for flight. Their effects had 
increased materially during their residence 
in that part of the country, if not in value, 
at least in bulk. The wagons were bulging ; 
every strap was strung. Opinions concern- 
ing the disposition of their surplus chattels 
clashed and crossed wickedly, and maledic- 
tions were hurled from one mouth to 
another with blasting force. 


A May-Day Ramble 


19 


Carol looked among the specks of ani- 
mated dirt that dotted the camp for the little 
bridge builder, but he had evidently gone 
on with a drowsy herd slowly disappearing 
over the distant stretch of country. 

The two friends looked on with a sort of 
shrinking curiosity. 

“Do you think one could apply the law of 
order to such a mix-up?” asked Janey with 
that mischievous shrewdness which she so 
often unexpectedly displayed. 

“I suppose so. It is all an essential part of 
their present condition.” 

“And their future too, I dare say.” 

“Perhaps not. We can’t see the whole 
sweep of existence in this little life of ours.” 

They talked on in a familiar strain, Carol 
earnest and steadfast, Janey flippant and 
volatile, making, as usual, an uneven bal- 
ance. 

As they neared home, Janey threw furtive 
glances at her companion, and as if she had 
suddenly received an impression of a nature 
larger than her own, exclaimed: 

“Oh, Carol! what must you think of me 
who haven’t a serious thought on any sub- 
ject? while you are so keenly alive and in 
earnest. What do you think of me?” 

“I think you are like the chameleon 
whose color changes with the light of every 


20 


The Vital Touch 


object,” said she laughing. Janey’s capri- 
cious prettiness drew the answer from her 
involuntarily. 

Janey retorted with a grimace, half 
tragic, half comic. 

^‘And what is my Laurie like?” again 
questioned she, pointing to the little lad who 
came running to meet them as fast as his legs 
could carry him. 

“Like a dancing sunbeam,” answered 
Carol, as she watched him throw himself 
into his young mother’s outstretched arms. 

They walked along hand in hand, with 
Laurence between them, and soon reached 
Carol’s home, where they parted. 

Carol walked briskly up the winding 
path. From the edge of the terrace she 
could see Laurence frisking about like a colt 
and paying less attention to the maternal 
commands than had the little half-savage 
whom she had watched at play that morn- 
ing. The next moment he darted under the 
arched gateway where his mother had be- 
guiled him with many pretty promises and 
had taken to the road, she following. 

Carol watched on with an amused smile. 

“There’s nothing in the world half so in- 
teresting as child life,” thought she, turning 
away. 

Janey’s mother sat on the veranda await- 


21 


A May-Day Ramble 

ing her return. She now approached with 
a tight grasp on Laurence’s hand. In at- 
tempting to assist him up the steps, Janey 
relaxed her hold, and taking advantage of 
his liberty, he was off. 

She shrugged her shoulders as she 
watched him, and sank wearily into a chair. 

“That’s poor discipline,” suggested her 
mother. “Send the maid after him.” 

“Oh, let him go,” she answered carelessly. 

Mrs. Nichols arose and called out the in- 
struction to the maid. 

“I’m afraid your outing hasn’t done you 
much good,” she remarked, seeing that 
Janey’s humor was testy. 

“It might have,” replied Janey irritably, 
“if Carol hadn’t made me very tired.” 

“Janey, Janey,” said Mrs. Nichols, 
“don’t say such things about Carol. You 
don’t mean a word of it. Tell me what hap- 
pened.” 

“Nothing happened; only I expected to 
tell her Lynn had spoken, but she had no 
interest in the affair whatever. Now think 
of my being engaged and Carol not knowing 
it, nor caring for that matter.” 

Mrs. Nichols smiled. What a mere child 
she was! but the matter had a serious side 
also. For a moment she looked back 
through the receding vistas of the past and 


22 


The Vital Touch 


saw her petted Janey again a little girl, pet- 
ulantly shaking her head and stamping her 
tiny foot at every attempt to control her 
childish conduct. Her parents were young 
with her and had watched her saucy airs 
with swelling hearts. But now Mrs. Nich- 
ols’ more practiced vision saw many danger- 
ous turns in the roadway of her daughter’s 
life, and she realized that it was owing to 
her own faulty training that Janey was 
unable to meet even the most commonplace 
annoyance with fortitude. 

“Carol does care,” she replied at length. 
“We can’t expect our friends to go on infal- 
libly, always doing and saying just what will 
please us. Run over for a while this after- 
noon and forget your nonsense. This is 
Miss Rutherford’s birthday, you know.” 

“I’m motoring with Dr. Templeton this 
afternoon,” said Janey. 

“Surely you don’t mean to go alone with 
him.” 

“Of course I do. The ridiculous idea of 
a chaperone for me and the big doctor!” 

“But I don’t like it, Janey.” 

“But I do. Mamma Nick, I love it.” 

They talked on till luncheon was ready, 
and decided to invite their friends to dinner 
in the near future, when the engagement to 
Mr. Lynn Gifford should be announced 
after the approved fashion. 


CHAPTER II 


CAROL 

She was as natural as a rose, sitting that 
early September evening in the garden, her 
head resting against the rough body of an 
oak. Janey — the heedless, capricious Janey 
— was to be married the next afternoon; in 
consequence, the neighborhood had its ear 
to the ground. The story of her early expe- 
rience was common property, and naturally, 
the subject of her marriages, past and pres- 
ent, was now a current topic. 

To Carol, her little friend’s affairs seemed 
discouragingly beyond the power of con- 
cern, therefore, her thoughts ranged upon a 
vaster issue. To her, too, life was replete 
with interest; but it was not the gay, whirl- 
ing world of society toward which her 
yearning soul pressed. She had formed a 
tentative plan for the uplift of a little stag- 
nant group thrown by the hand of fate into 
the most wretched of circumstances, and 
upon that plan she mused till the sound of 

23 


24 


The Vital Touch 


happy voices announced the approach of 
visitors. 

Alois Vignon, the younger brother of 
Madame Jacquard, whom the Nichols fam- 
ily had been expecting for several days, had 
at last arrived, and was to call with the 
betrothed couple that evening. 

Carol had never met this close friend of 
her neighbors. She hardly knew whether 
she felt irritated or amused at the repeated 
assurances that she inevitably would be in- 
terested in him. Of course she would be 
interested. Why not? She was interested 
in everyone, the particular passing with 
easy tread into the general. Nevertheless, 
she was conscious of a little curiosity con- 
cerning this highly approved person now 
that they were about to meet. 

Intentionally opening her book, her eyes 
fell upon an attractive passage, and the trio 
had reached her side before she looked up. 
Janey stood abashed and Mr. Gifford felt 
repulsed; but all clouds of disappointment 
were dispersed a moment later when she 
arose to meet them with unaffected pleasure, 
tossing a welcome with every word. There 
was a charm in her every movement, a free- 
dom from restraint in look and action which 
was as natural a part of her as the free mo- 


Carol 


25 

tion of a leafy twig is part of the graceful 
bough. 

“The fates have been working at cross^ 
purposes about our meeting, Miss Ruther- 
ford,” the stranger was encouraged to say as 
she greeted him. 

Many times in after years his first words 
came back to her with prophetic meaning. 

He spoke in a deep clear voice, though 
with a slightly foreign accent. His appear- 
ance gave a stronger hint of foreign lineage; 
but his keen sense of American humor and 
his familiarity with Yankee notions and con- 
ceits, indicated that his exotic character had 
been obliterated by the brush and rub of 
association. He was of medium height, 
well poised and well built. He was about 
eight and twenty, apparently, somewhat 
younger than Miss Rutherford had fancied. 

“It seems so,” said she in answer to the 
frank acknowledgment of his frustrated 
efforts to meet her. “I began to think you 
were a myth,” she laughed. 

“He is a myth. He is Orion who has 
walked over land and water to be our bright 
and shining light this evening,” interposed 
Janey. And as Carol turned to address the 
prospective Benedict, she added parenthet- 
ically to their guest, 

“And let Orion beware of Cupid’s arch- 


26 


The Vital Touch 


ery.” But her witticism fell upon deaf ears. 
He was following Carol closely with his 
eyes. 

“So you are about to be spirited away by 
your Lady of the Lake?” Carol was saying. 

“How about that, Giff,” said Vignon. 
“Speak up. After this night you’ll never 
know what free speech means.” 

“Oh, ril go any way or any place that 
happens to suit the wily Lady of the Lake. 
Her mind being set on me, there’s nothing 
left for me but submission,” answered the 
captive. “Say, Carol, I’m curious about 
that absorbing book,” said he. “Upon my 
word, I thought you meant to turn us 
down.” 

She handed him the little volume. 

“The eve of St. Agnes,” he repeated, nod- 
ding with each word, and opening it he be- 
gan to stumble over the lines in a manner 
altogether distressing. 

“Oh, mercy!” cried Janey, flying to the 
rescue of the poetry which was in imminent 
danger of being murdered. 

“I don’t pretend to know much about 
reading poetry,” said he who had made such 
a signal failure. “I guess it’s like preaching 
a sermon, the success of both depends on 
knowing enough to holler at the right time.” 

“Lynn Gifford,” said Carol, with an ex- 


Carol 


27 


pression between a smile and a frown, “your 
bad humor would spoil the finest sentiment 
ever formed by tongue or pen.’^ 

Carol’s animation cast a bright reflection 
on the little group, and the spirit of youth 
being aroused, they laughed themselves into 
innocent familiarity. It was all quite nat- 
ural! the delicate reserve with which 
young Vignon was wont to approach the 
gentler sex gave way to respectful confi- 
dence. At best his opinion of woman was of 
a negative sort, but he recognized Carol as 
one whose nature was as genuine as her 
charm. 

If he had ever given serious thought to 
lovely woman, it was to invest her with 
French grace; of this pure American type, 
so vivacious, yet so naive, he had known 
nothing. 

Carol had taken a favorable impression 
of the engaging foreigner at first glance. 
There was a depth, an uncertainty, in his 
dark eyes that held her. Sometimes they 
softened with dreamy languor suggestive oi 
the Italian temperament; and again, they 
opened clear and brilliant with the full 
light and strength peculiar to those expo- 
nents of French wit who cast an epigram 
with every glance. She decided that Alois 
Vignon might interest her immensely. 


28 


The Vital Touch 


Suddenly a thing happened which, al- 
though not an unusual occurrence, but be- 
cause it is apart from the tangible world, 
never fails to inspire amazement and awe. 
The counterpart of the scene, — the garden, 
the gently waving trees, the lovers and Alois 
Vignon, — flashed across her mind and hung 
there a moment, like a mirage, as if present 
perceptions had grown out of the mystic 
memory of the past. She started and smiled 
faintly as her eyes sought those of the young 
man. She chatted and laughed with de- 
lightful abandon, and he, listening, felt, 
rather than heard her words. It was the 
leap of his spirit out of the deep silence of 
the past into the light of an unknown world. 

A meeting like theirs cannot be accounted 
for by the logic of chance. It is evolved 
from the Race-Mind and stretches out be- 
yond the reach of time. 

Again his splendid eyes fell upon her. 
This time there was something intimate in 
his gaze — something hinted. She faltered 
a moment, smiled encouragingly, then fas- 
tened upon him a look of outspoken, calm 
recognition. The soul of the man had 
spoken to her through his eyes, and she, 
Carol Rutherford, the over-scrupulous, cau- 
tious girl of twenty-four, had made an open 
avowal to this stranger by an implication, 
[plainer than words. 


Carol 


29 


The meaning between them deepened, but 
such a thing as checking her too sudden im- 
pulse never entered her mind. She was 
only human, and the young blood was aglow 
in her veins, too; but for this venial fault 
she was destined to suffer the bitterest ex- 
piation. She had kindled a flame and 
leaped into it and it proved to be her purga- 
tory. 

None of this escaped the vigilant eye of 
J aney. 

“Did I ever, now!” mused she, looking 
from one to the other with childlike sur- 
prise. “Did I ever! a desperate flirtation 
between the invincible Carol and the gentle- 
man of France!” 

Her thought took a serious turn, however, 
and with characteristic good-heartedness 
she was about to entice her fiance away on 
an improvised errand, when Miss Ruther- 
ford approached, returning from her even- 
ing walk, and both couples arose to meet 
her. The shadows of night were deepening 
and they all walked to the house. 

The next hour passed speedily, and soon 
after leaving the Rutherford’s, Alois took 
his leave. The betrothed pair spent their 
ante-nuptial evening together, while he, 
freed from restraint, went forth rapt and 
alone. 


CHAPTER III 


DREAMS OF FAIR WOMEN 

In accordance with Lynn’s request, Alois 
awaited him in his smoking-room. The 
night grew unpleasantly warm and after 
opening the windows, he dropped into a 
huge chair in a familiar corner. The shad- 
ows flickered fantastically across the 
room. The trees seemed to stretch their stiff 
branches like giants’ arms through the win- 
dows and to run their leafy fingers nervously 
along the walls, and other shadows haunted 
him as he sat and mused. Now the vision 
of the pretty little bride-to-be flitted across 
his mind, like a butterfly on the wing, and 
darted away. Then another took its place 
— a vision of Carol — brightening into a 
vivid image like an embodied thought. Her 
simple grace, the hint of humor that lay in 
the half-suppressed smile, her wit touched 
with tenderness, all these impressions of the 
early evening were renewed with ten-fold 
intensity. Again he seemed to hear her 
30 


Dreams of Fair JV omen 31 

voice full of sweetness and sympathy and 
love, as he had heard it borne on the even- 
ing air. It was like a masterpiece of music 
that, having sent through one a heavenly de- 
light, leaves an imperishable memory. 

Alois had been brought up in the belief 
that to purify life from the desires of the 
flesh was the highest human achievement. 
He was free from the slightest implication 
in sensual life. From early boyhood until 
his twenty-second year, he had been gov- 
erned by the rule of ecclesiastical Rome. 
Then for a reason as incomprehensible as 
strange. Father Vignon, his brother and his 
guardian during minority who had led him 
with a firm hand into a religious order, in- 
sisted upon his withdrawal, begging him to 
obey, without questioning his motive. Soon 
afterward the priest being granted permis- 
sion to live permanently in the United 
States, took Alois with him and settled in 
'Wisconsin, establishing an Indian mission 
school. The young man loosed from the 
anchorage, had drifted. He believed he had 
missed the tide in his affairs. Of late the 
line of demarkation between day and day 
was but faintly drawn, and he made no at- 
tempt to deepen it. To-night everything 
seemed unreal to him; he seemed unreal to 
himself and quite naturally, for he stood at 


32 


The Vital Touch 


the threshold of a new life and he realized 
it. A sense of doubt and awe crept over 
him as he questioned himself intimately. 
He glanced at his past; at Rome and its as- 
sociation, and the memory stirred him with 
reverberant intensity. His ecclesiastical 
friends were earnest, sincere men whom he 
loved and whose respect he had earned. 
Their benign influence had irised his youth 
like a halo. It was an abode of peace — 
peace, not as the world giveth, but that 
which is sought and found with the eye of 
faith. The life had attracted him; he had 
never been ready to separate himself en- 
tirely from it and he believed he never 
would, but he was leaving it at last. The 
tie that bound him to it was severed by a 
woman whose rare presence had fallen like 
a charm over his life. Had she, too, felt the 
Vital Touch? Ah, yes! even as the trem- 
bling ecstacy of love sends its pulsations 
back to the Great Source of Life, she had 
felt it. But his divining soul grew restless. 
His thoughts were entangled in the meshes 
of hopes and fears, when Lynn threw open 
the door and entered noisily. 

^What!” cried he, ‘‘the den all dark and 
the lion asleep?” 

“No, indeed, the lion has been lying here 
awake for two hours,” replied the other. 


Dreams of Fair Women 


33 


“Comfortably, I hope?” 

“Absurdly so,” said Vignon rising. 

“Wallowing in comfort, eh?” 

The next moment the room was filled 
with light. Lynn was wonderfully active 
and blustered about like a gale in full blast. 
He stood before the fireplace and applied a 
match to its brazen face and a volume of 
heat gushed forth. 

“Great Scott, man!” exclaimed Alois 
stepping to a window. 

“Beg pardon, Vignon,” he said sheep- 
ishly. “This getting married is playing the 
devil with me. You see a man doesn’t get 
married every day, and when he does, it’s 
likely to make him a little batty. This is 
the way to break up bachelor head-quar- 
ters,” said he, sweeping his hand over the 
table and distributing its ornaments over the 
floor. 

Alois returned to his chair. 

“It’s one way to bring down the house,” 
he remarked. “Sit down and behave your- 
self; I want to ask something about — about 
Miss Rutherford.” 

Lynn placed several bottles of wine upon 
the table, tossed over a case of cigars, 
dragged two heavy chairs up to it with a 
commotion that might have aroused the 


34 


The Vital Touch 


Seven Sleepers, and with a comical gesture, 
motioned Alois to come nearer. 

‘What do you think of my sweetheart?” 
he asked as he poured the wine. 

“That’s a funny question ! I knew her be- 
fore you did, which is one on me, eh? Well, 
here’s to you and your dream of connubial 
bliss — the state where earth meets heaven 
when the angel we propose to becomes our 
helpmate.” 

Lynn emptied his glass and refilled it. 

“ ‘To see her is to love her. 

And love but her forever; 

For nature made her what she is, 

And never made anither!’ ” 

he sang with a tune that ended in a chuckle. 

There was an interval of silence while 
Lynn drank heartily. 

“Tell me something about Miss Ruther- 
ford,” Alois ventured presently. 

“Carol, you mean? She’s lovesome all 
right. She could capture the biggest lion 
in the society jungle without half trying. 
She’s different. She’s her own human self ; 
she knows all sorts of unheard of things and 
she— •” Here he stopped to drink again and 
by the time he had refilled his glass, he had 


Dreams of Fair Women 35 

forgotten to finish the inventory of the young 
lady’s accomplishments. 

Alois bit his lip. 

‘‘She is not an engaged girl?” he asked. 

But the spirit of wine caroused before 
young Gifford and he stared at it stupidly. 
There was another long silence during 
which Alois attempted to read. 

Suddenly Lynn aroused himself. 

“Why you’re not drinking at all. You’re 
a poor excuse for a Frenchman, you are. 
Come, drink to the health of the widow — 
the prettiest bundle of dry goods that ever 
trotted in two dainty shoes. Carol, did you 
say, Al? Ca — Carol is great. She’s just all 
right,” he went on, “not ex-actly the sort to 
thr-throw herself into a fellow’s arms — not 
quite.” Alois’ face betrayed annoyance. 
“She walks away up here, she does. She’s 
hardly reachable, my boy, hardly reachable. 
This is h-her al-titude,” said he, indicating 
his meaning by holding out an unsteady arm 
on a level with his shoulder. 

The main-spring of his tongue was wound 
up ready to start into action at the slightest 
touch. One word from Alois would reveal 
the much coveted intelligence, but he would 
not purchase it at that price. 

“Come Giff, time’s up. It’s almost mid- 


36 The Vital ToucHl 

night and you must be up and doing in the 
morning,” he advised. 

But Lynn had no notion of going to bed, 
and no argument could quell his intention 
of drinking “to the pretty widow as long as 
there was wine in the bottle.” 

Happily his spirits soon grew heavy and 
he finally threw himself upon the couch 
and fell asleep. Alois took up a magazine 
and read words without meaning. 

The following day lagged with lazy foot 
for Alois. He discharged the social duties 
assigned him in a perfunctory manner and 
gave a sigh of relief when they were over. 
Carol’s forces, too, were scattered in many 
directions, so he saw nothing of her until 
the wedding hour. 

Within the Nichols’ home everything was 
in readiness for the event by four o’clock, 
and the decorator’s art had left pretty 
touches everywhere. 

“She is very young,” reasoned Mrs. 
Nichols, “and this time is marrying one of 
her own age; so everything must be ar- 
ranged accordingly.” And this was true. 
Janey was, like the roses she carried, in full 
flower. 

Alois’ every breath was one of eager ex- 
pectation as he awaited Carol’s arrival. Ah! 
there she was at last, radiantly beautiful as 




Dreams of Fair Women 37 

before, with the same perfect naturalness 
and stately simplicity. Nothing about her 
escaped his notice; the delicate colorings of 
her gown, the suppleness and strength of her 
form, the gleam of intellectual beauty that 
lighted her face and sparkled in her eyes. 
The impression of her appearance and per- 
sonality sank into the deeps of his being and 
remained a cherished possession through 
the long, dreary years that followed. 

The evening was a disappointment to him. 
He regretted the circumstances that re- 
quired Carol to blend her individual inter- 
ests with the common. At dinner, too, the 
conversation was discouragingly general. 
So the fond recollections of her, and a vague 
idea of the pretty home wedding were the 
impressions he carried from his friends’ 
nuptials into the great seeming world of 
Chicago. 


CHAPTER IV 


DOMESTIC INFELICITY 

For nearly a year Janey contrived to keep 
at bay the old restlessness, but the rampant 
spirit again clamored for action. One 
evening when her husband returned from 
his office a little later than usual, he found 
her in tears. She declared in the most 
childish way that she should die if some- 
thing did not happen to relieve the mo- 
notony. 

This trait of character would have been 
obvious to any discriminating person, but 
man’s judgment is seldom clear concerning 
the woman he loves. Mr. Gifford adored 
his wife and loved with a happy trust which 
would not admit that a shadow could fall be- 
tween them. He laughed at her impatient 
humor and improvised many ways and 
means of rescue but all suggestions were 
futile; she finally declared with thoughtless 
candor that nothing could make her abso- 
lutely happy but again to see Dr. Temple- 
ton. 


38 


Domestic Infelicity 


39 


No one knew better than Lynn of her at- 
tachment to this man — certainly no one had 
seen more reckless displays of her regard 
for him. The doctor had been the Nichols’ 
family physician for years, and Janey had 
met him in the familiar way that often 
grows with intimate services of that nature. 
He had been in India since her marriage 
and on his return, responded promptly to 
her invitation to call. It had not occurred 
to her that she would be expected to forfeit 
any of her former privileges by reason of 
her altered social position. Lynn, on the 
other hand, had flattered himself that he 
was the one man in the world destined to 
make her happy and there his thoughts 
rested undisturbed. 

A cloud of disapproval settled over his 
frank countenance, and a sting of disap- 
pointment darted through him like a deadly 
pain. 

“His humor is so refreshing, you know,” 
she explained, tapping her tiny foot on the 
floor. 

“Which means, inferentially, that my 
company isn’t sufficient.” 

“Don’t be silly, Lynn. You know I’m 
very fond of you.” 

“Then why can’t you be content with 
Laurie and me?” 


40 


The Vital Touch 


She arose from her place beside him and 
sank into a chair on the opposite side of the 
room, flushing angrily. 

^‘It bores me to be questioned like this. It 
would grow decidedly dull to heel and toe 
about with you forever like the foolish 
couple in the opera. I should like some one 
else once in a while.” 

‘‘Well, my dear,” he replied with sullen 
steadiness, “if it requires Dr. Templeton’s 
company to make you happy, get him here 
by all means.” 

He arose to go down town. Her caresses 
soon beguiled him into his natural serenity 
of temper, but she determined to take him 
at his word and invite the doctor to dinner 
the next evening. 

“She is the dearest angel in the world,” 
thought he, with lover-like partiality as he 
walked out into the street, “and these little 
fancies only prove her human.” 

Accordingly, Dr. Templeton came. 
Lynn treated him with due courtesy, listen- 
ing with patient attention to his witticisms 
that never failed to call out a lively response 
from his hostess. 

As her husband had feared, Janey’s ample 
encouragement induced more frequent visits 
than conventionality allows, and while he 
nearly always managed to be present, he 


Domestic Infelicity 41 

would not admit even to himself, that such 
a course had become necessary in order to 
keep the name of his wife inviolate; but a 
limit was reached even to his forbearance. 

“I hope you will make it a point to come 
home early this evening. We may have a 
guest for dinner,’’ said Mrs. Gifford one 
morning as they arose from the breakfast 
table. 

“Whom are you expecting to invite?” 

“Dr. Templeton.” 

“Dr. Simpleton,” he retorted. “Why 
doesn’t he stay at home with his wife?” 

“She happens to be away at present.” 

“She usually is away I believe. It must 
be that she doesn’t find her husband’s com- 
pany very agreeable.” 

“There are others,” she answered with a 
characteristic shrug of the shoulders which 
said so much and meant so little. 

But she had gone too far. 

“Very well, if that is the case, you needn’t 
expect me this evening. Good bye, dear.” 

“Don’t kiss me, Lynn Gifford,” she cried 
with an impetuous recoil, and throwing her- 
self upon the lounge, buried her face in her 
hands. 

Without another word he walked out of 
the room and a minute later the front door 
slammed behind him. 


42 


The Vital Touch 


^What have I done!” she said aloud, 
bounding to her feet. “What if he shouldn’t 
come back!” 

Hurrying to the window, she peeped 
through a corner of the lace curtain. Lynn 
stood upon the veranda in full view, lost in 
thought. Two forces within him were 
struggling for supremacy. One with husky 
Mephisto-like voice allured him away from 
his paradise! the other, with gentle tone, 
whispered a dozen secret ways to restore it. 
It was always easy for him to obey the better 
impulse; besides, now in the calm of 
thought, the quarrel began to seem largely 
his own fault. 

“There’s no law against her inviting 
whom she pleases,” he reasoned against rea- 
son. He opened the door, and Janey, who a 
moment before was on the point of hasten- 
ing after him, glided noiselessly from her 
point of view behind the drapery, and re- 
sumed her position upon the couch, face 
downward in the throes of ostensible grief. 

It is said that every woman can play a 
part, and the wife of Lynn Gifford was by 
no means a novice in the art. 

“My darling,” he said in a conciliatory 
tone while bending over her, “if there’s 
never a first parting of this nature between 
us there can’t be a second. If I’ve been 


Domestic Infelicity 


43 


hasty, Fm sorry, and perhaps very selfish in 
wanting you all to myself. You know I 
would do anything to make you happy. 
Look up. You are not angry?” 

She yielded herself to him unresistingly 
and when she attempted to speak he stopped 
the utterance with a thousand playful kisses. 
So ended the quarrel. Nothing further was 
said concerning the doctor, and that even- 
ing Lynn ate his dinner in the bosom of his 
family, free from any intrusion. 

August was now wasted two weeks. The 
day had been very sultry and trying. The 
wheels of Phaeton’s chariot had come dan- 
gerously near the earth, driving the great 
bulk of humanity on before it to the refresh- 
ing comforts of old ocean, or to the woods 
and lakes. Janey, on the contrary, had re- 
solutely declined to leave town, although 
Lynn had a summer home delightfully sit- 
uated on the northwest shore of Green Bay 
in Michigan, which remained closed all sea- 
son. Janey had spent a fortnight there two 
years before as the late Mrs. Gifford’s guest. 
She was then happy, making herself a de- 
lightful companion, and it was there that 
the flower of hope had put forth its tiny 
buds; there that the young man’s heart had 
beaten wildly when he wondered if the rose 
would bloom for him. 


44 


The Vital Touch 


“It has been insufferably hot in town to- 
day/’ he said one evening. “I wish you 
cared to go to Lynnwood cottage for the re- 
mainder of the heated term. 

“But I don’t care to go for a single day.” 

“You liked it immensely the summer be- 
fore last.” 

“Oh, yes, but that was the summer before 
last.” 

He would have abandoned further hope 
of leaving town, but for a happy thought 
that came to him. Carol Rutherford was 
again at home after a long absence, and if 
she could be induced to join them, he felt 
confident that Janey would be willing to go 
north. He had a motive in desiring Carol’s 
presence at Lynnwood, an impersonal mo- 
tive, yet he chose to keep it a secret. 

“Have you seen Carol lately?” he in- 
quired one evening when they sat together 
on the lawn. 

Janey had stopped in her romp with 
Laurance to take breath. 

“I saw her this morning. She has been 
working very hard in the interest of her 
Negro school. Ugh, horrible! My notion 
about it is, it isn’t worth while.” 

“If there’s any good in it at all, it is worth 
while,” he answered in such an earnest tone 
that Janey, ruffled into petulance, replied 


Domestic Infelicity 45 

quickly, “Well, Fm quite sure I have no 
objection, but I don’t believe in taking life 
so seriously as all that.” 

“It isn’t your way, my dear, but it is hers, 
and Carol is a mighty fine girl.” 

“You don’t say so!” she answered. 

“How would you like to invite her to 
take a lake trip and stop at Lynnwood cot- 
tage for a few days.” 

“I should like it if it wouldn’t be too 
cold.” 

“It will be cool, but the early autumn is 
delightful up there.” 

“I think Carol would be glad of the 
change. Could you arrange to go, too? We 
couldn’t very well go alone.” 

“Perhaps I could,” he answered with as- 
sumed indifference, and as she ran off to con- 
tinue her chase he said sotto voce, by way of 
congratulating himself on the ingenuity of 
his plot: 

“Dead easy, old fellow, dead easy! when- 
ever you want to work a scheme, have sense 
enough to cajole your better half into the 
belief that you have only one object in view 
and she is it/* 


CHAPTER V 


ON TO “LYNNWOOD” 

On the evening of the second Sunday in 
September, the Gifford family and Carol 
Rutherford were nearing Lynnwood bent 
on a post-summer vacation. 

They had been on the lakes several days. 
On this, their last morning on board, they 
had watched the first bright footsteps of the 
sun touch the water and were now charmed 
into silence by the grandeur of his depart- 
ing. Everything was tranquil and a Sab- 
bath solemnity pervaded all. 

Soon the familiar scenes began to appear, 
and when a gust of wind separated the trees 
on the hill-top exposing the cottage to their 
anticipatory eyes, they felt for the first time 
a desire to go ashore. 

“Why is it,” said Mrs. Gifford pensively, 
“that no matter where one is, even, I sup- 
pose, if he were in the most isolated spot on 
earth, an indefinable something would tell 
him when it was Sabbath?” 

'46 


On to ^^Lynnwood^^ 


47 


^‘I don’t know as to that,” answered her 
husband. “That must belong to the esoteric 
part of religion, but I do know if I were in 
the most isolated spot on earth, an indefin- 
able something would tell me when it was 
dinner time. I’m as gaunt as an empty 
corn-crib.” 

This humorous hint served to remind 
them that they had a grievance against the 
cuisinier of the boat, and that the one thing 
above all others they were looking forward 
to, was the novel experience of a well- 
cooked meal. 

“How glad I am that Katie condescended 
to spend a month up here,” said Janey with 
a satisfied sigh. 

“There’s no mistake about her arrival?” 
inquired Lynn pretending great solicitude. 

“Not likely. I’ve made pretty sure of 
that. She has been staying with a neighbor- 
ing family since Friday.” 

“It’s probable she will be going to church 
about this time,” he suggested. 

“She will have to go considerably out of 
her way I should imagine,” said Carol. 

Laurence felt great concern about this. 
He stole nearer Carol’s side when they 
reached the landing. It was growing ra- 
pidly dark and not a conveyance was to be 
had. 


48 


The Vital Touch 


“One of the inconveniences attached to 
the eccentric notion of coming to a summer 
resort at Christmas time,” laughed Lynn. 

He finally arranged for the delivery of 
their trunks and impedimenta, and they set 
out on foot for the house on the hill-top. 
Now and again a streak of lightning pierced 
the darkness like an apparition. Nothing 
daunted, they groped their way through the 
bushy mazes, trying to extract humor out of 
an annoying situation ; but it was hard work, 
especially for Mrs. Gifford, who clung to 
her husband’s arm expecting momentarily 
to be seized by some awful monster of the 
woods. 

Fear is an invisible terror that draws to 
itself an infectious brood of its kind. No 
greater charm is needed to conjure up, a 
hideous thing than the mere fear of its 
presence. 

“Horrors! what’s that?” she screamed, 
suddenly halting. Something in front of 
them rose to a gigantic height, seeming to 
hurl defiance across their path in wicked, 
guttural tones. 

“Only a harmless necessary cow that’s 
more frightened than you are,” said Lynn. 

“It certainly is the largest cow I ever saw 
and roars louder than twenty lions,” said 
Janey with reckless hyperbole. 


On to '^Lynnwood^^ 


49 


The faint bellow of a calf that had gotten 
astray from its mother was heard, and then 
“the harmless necessary cow’^ gave some 
rapid strides to find her baby, which she 
doubtless thought had had a rude awaken- 
ing, making tense the rope to which she was 
tethered. 

It happened at that particular moment, 
that Mr. Gifford stepped across her line of 
march, and stumbling over the rope, fell to 
the ground with a heavy thud. 

“My manly visage is scratched with 
briars!” he cried. “That’s what a fellow 
gets for trying to kiss the face of the maiden 
earth.” 

At this point Janey also approached the 
danger line, and over she went, alighting be- 
side him. 

“It’s all right when his wife is with him,” 
said Carol, and the woods rang with their 
laughter. 

Then they noticed a bright light floating 
along near the ground, winding in and out 
among the bushes. At one time it was 
plainly visible, at another it had entirely 
disappeared from view. 

Laurence wound himself in the folds of 
his companion’s skirt. He had kept up 
courage like a little man when earthly 
things threatened them, but he now flinched 


50 


The Vital Touch 


mightily at the prospect of a personal en- 
counter with that weird object floating about 
in the distance. 

The Will-o’-th’-wisp turned out to be the 
faithful Katie with a lantern in hand, has- 
tening to meet them. 

“Law sakes!” she exclaimed. “When 
the man with the trunks told me there was 
no carriage to fetch you, I just started out 
on a wild run. It’s an age since I heard the 
boat whistle.” 

The bright lights from the cottage win- 
dows signaled a cheerful welcome, and at 
the sight of the sparkling log fire within, 
they fairly danced for joy. 

“How soon will dinner be ready, thou 
masterpiece?” inquired the jovial Lynn. 

“It’s ready to serve, sir,” answered Katie. 

Then they all shuffled to the stairway and 
scrambled up the steps, each one endeavor- 
ing to be the first to reach the top. They 
were like children turned loose in the wild- 
wood for a holiday. 

The ladies and Laurence were seated at 
the table, their hasty preparation indicating 
the state of their appetites, when Lynn came 
down. He sniffled as he approached. 

“It smells like soup,” said he. 

“It looks like soup,” said Carol, slyly 
lifting the cover of the tureen. 


On to ^^Lynnwood^' 51 

is soup/’ said Janey, dipping up a 
spoonful like a badly behaved child. 

A dull evening lay before them. The rain 
splashed against the window panes, so they 
were forced to spend the time within. Lynn 
dozed before the log fire, while Carol and 
Janey read, and Laurence sat wide-eyed, 
looking wistfully from one to another. 

“Let’s go out and see what the indications 
are for a day in the woods to-morrow,” said 
Mrs. Gifford, whose spirits soon began to 
fret under restraint. 

Only a few clusters of stars were visible 
behind the dark cloud draperies, but they 
decided to go to bed, thinking a good night’s 
rest would be the best preparation for a long 
tramp. 


CHAPTER VI 


LIFE IS WHAT WE MAKE IT 

“What have you planned for to-day?” 
asked Lynn one morning as they strolled to- 
gether into the open, making good the reso- 
lution that not an hour should be spent 
within doors except to eat and sleep, till 
every foot of the woods had been explored. 

“Laurie is to have his first rowing lesson 
this afternoon,” said Carol, caressing the 
little one. 

“If that is the case I’ll go to the boathouse 
and get a thoroughly safe skifif if you won’t 
mind waiting till I come back from the post- 
office,” suggested Mr. Gifford. 

“We had intended doing all that our- 
selves, but if you of little faith have any 
paternal anxieties, we shall be glad to wait 
till you return,” said Carol. 

“It isn’t from lack of confidence in you, 
my sweet friend, but the boats are apt to be 
leaky at the end of the season, you know,” 
he explained. 


52 


Life is JVhat TVe Make It 


53 


“Then I shall stay and write to Mamma 
Nichols, — that is, unless you will do it for 
me, Lynn,” said Janey. 

“Not I, dearest, not I,” he returned. “I’d 
sooner try my hand at the American Epic 
than to attempt to explain to my respected 
mother-in-law why she hasn’t had the 
scratch of a pen from us since we left.” 

They walked to a bit of rising earth where 
the grass stretched over the ground like a 
huge carpet, making a delightful resting 
place. They could catch glimpses of the 
water here and there, now bursting into 
broad view, again concealing itself behind 
a screen of foliage like a child playing at 
hide and seek. The wind gently touched 
the heavy boughs, making the air refresh- 
ingly brisk. 

“Isn’t it delicious,” said Janey, taking a 
long breath. 

“It’s delicious and all that,” replied her 
husband, “but I’ll tell you what’s a fact; if 
you don’t go back to the house this minute 
and unpack the trunks. I’ll do it myself. 
I’ve reached the limit of masculine humilia- 
tion. I’ve been all this time without a col- 
lar button and I’m using a beauty pin.” 

After luncheon Carol and Laurie started 
out for the beach, and soon Lynn came skim- 
ming over the water with the ease of a float- 


54 


The Vital Touch 


ing duck. They scrambled into the skiff and 
with a vigorous push from Lynn, the little 
craft shot forward twice her length. 

“She handles it with the ease of mastery,’’ 
thought he as he stood on the shore watch- 
ing Carol measure the water with slow and 
beautiful motion. The picturesque effect of 
the scene pleased him. The little piece of 
humanity settled in one end of the skiff was 
nearly hidden from view, throwing into re- 
lief the strong, expressive young body which 
was its controlling force. Her clear eyes 
met the sun’s strong visage with steadfast 
gaze, reminding him of two powerful forces 
both conscious of their own strength. Her 
color was a shade heightened by the air and 
exercise, her arms, bared to the elbow, 
showed firm, rosy flesh. 

It was rather unusual for him to observe 
so closely, nor was he aware of doing so, till 
the fair trustful face smiled back at him, 
and the child bobbed up and waved good- 
bye. 

“By Jove, she’s a charming woman!” he 
said to himself. “I’ll have a match for her 
here tomorrow, if Providence favors my 
plans,” and he hurried to the house, brimful 
of kindly anticipation. 

The chair in which Mrs. Gifford had 
been sitting was vacant. He entered the 


Life is What We Make It 


55 


house, and calling, received no answer. 
Thinking that she was resting, he stole cau- 
tiously up stairs, and found her lying upon 
the bed weeping. An open newspaper lay 
upon the floor. With a flash of suspicion 
he took it up and read the large headlines : 

DR. TEMPLETON DYING OF BLOOD POISON. 

An expression of patient despair came 
over his face, and dropping the paper, he 
left the room without a word. He walked 
to the window at the end of the hall. He 
looked out, but saw nothing. After a few 
minutes’ thought, he retraced his steps, ap- 
proaching no nearer than his wife’s door, 
and said with some reserve, but without the 
least annoyance in his tone : 

“Dear, if that item about Dr. Templeton 
is causing your distress, it may be a relief to 
know that the report is denied in a later is- 
sue, which you have apparently over- 
looked.” 

He did not wait to study the effect of his 
words. Going down stairs, he took the chair 
which she had occupied on the veranda, and 
sat silent and thoughtful through the long 
afternoon, until the strong lights were mel- 
lowing, and the shadows stretched out to- 
ward the bay. Then Carol and her little 
companion came back bright and happy, 


The Vital Touch 


56 

with an animated account of their adven- 
tures, to which he listened with indulgent 
attention. 

When they entered the house, Janey was 
sitting at the writing table with her back to- 
ward them. She answered their remarks 
without looking up, but at the first sight of 
her face at dinner, Carol surmised that 
something had gone wrong. The disinclina- 
tion to talk was general, but Laurie’s child- 
ish prattle did much to relieve the embar- 
rassment. Carol, presuming her married 
friends had had a misunderstanding, feigned 
weariness and retired to her room. Janey 
was anything but comfortable, for she real- 
ized that the perfect harmony had been 
marred and that she had struck the dis- 
cordant note. 

Mr. Gifford was an ardently kind man, 
and had made allowances for his wife’s 
caprices with the sanguine hope which be- 
longs to early experience. But her humors 
had begun to make a deeper impression and 
were not so easily obliterated. It was quite 
evident he intended to administer no more 
balm to her self-inflicted wounds. 

^‘Lynn’s attitude of offended innocence is 
very tiresome, to say the least,” she mused 
as she undressed that evening. ‘‘But he’ll 
be as happy as a school boy to-morrow, no 


Life is What We Make It 


57 


doubt. In the meantime I hope I may throw 
off this miserable depression and go to 
sleep.’’ 

But the spirit that hovered about her was 
the precursor of that stern goddess, Nemesis, 
who always follows in the wake of folly, 
making the offender do penance before her 
tribunal. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE STORM 

About noon the next day, Lynn an- 
nounced his intention of going to the station 
that evening to see a man whom he was ex- 
pecting would pass through on the six 
o’clock train. 

“I shall make no unnecessary delay and 
hope to be back in time for dinner,” he ex- 
plained, ‘‘but it’s important that I should be 
on time.” 

“Perhaps it would be better to have din- 
ner later than usual, and then you needn’t 
hurry,” said Mrs. Gifford, whose temper 
had been noticeably bland that day. Her 
husband, on the contrary, was unusually 
taciturn. 

“Just as you like,” he replied shortly. He 
had, however, taken the cook into his confi- 
dence and she was already busy with secret 
preparations for a guest. 

The heat had become oppressive and the 
scorching touches of the sun warned them 

58 


The Storm 


59 


against engaging in any active pursuit. 
They felicitated themselves that they had 
chosen the early hours of the morning when 
the air was genial, for a long row on the bay, 
and now sat complacently by while time 
panted on. 

Lynn had ordered a carriage which was 
ready on the roadside at the expected time. 

‘‘I see our man of metal is getting tired 
of walking,” said Janey with an amused 
laugh. 

“It is possible for a man of metal to get 
soaked if it rains hard enough,” he returned, 
peering up among the thick branches to 
catch the aspect of the sky. 

When he reached the open country, he 
noticed that great black banks were rising 
in the northwest. He motioned the driver 
to hasten. Frequently glancing at the dark- 
ening sky, he soon became aware that the 
clouds were pressing forward with startling 
speed. Anxious as he was to reach the sta- 
tion, he began to question the wisdom of 
such an attempt, and with sudden fear con- 
cerning the safety of his family, decided to 
turn back. He stopped the carriage. 

“That storm is coming up in a hurry, 
Walton,” he said to the man. “Drive with 
all possible speed to the station. You will 
find a gentleman there who is to come to 


6o 


The Vital Touch 


my house. Please explain to him that I be- 
came uneasy about the ladies who had never 
experienced a storm here, and I thought best 
to return to them. You have no time to 
lose,” said he, glancing at his watch. 

The man dashed off, and Lynn hastened 
homeward with the uneasy recollection that 
when he left his wife and Carol were sit- 
ting under the trees in front of the house, 
which faced the east, so that in all probabil- 
ity they would not have noticed the ap- 
proaching storm. 

A prolonged, rumbling noise from the 
western sky, as of a sudden rush of wind 
through a narrow passage, was, in fact, the 
first intimation the two women had had of 
it. They exchanged a quick glance of 
alarm, and in an instant, both were on their 
feet. The lightning now darted from cloud 
to cloud, and a strange lurid light over- 
spread the earth. 

“Where is Laurie?” cried Mrs. Gifford, 
rushing in and out of the house and calling 
excitedly. The sharp flashes of lightning 
were followed by prolonged peals of thun- 
der, and the sweeping wind drove the leaves 
through the air. Laurence was nowhere to 
be seen. 

“Could it be that he had been playing on 
the water?” thought Carol. With premoni- 


The Storm 


6i 


tory dread she turned toward the bay, Janey 
following, fearful and trembling. The 
wind blew with increasing force, as if intent 
upon tearing every tree limb from limb. 

The dreaded thing had happened. The 
skiff in which the child was playing had 
been detached from its mooring, and the 
veering winds were rocking it to and fro, 
far beyond the reach of human hands. Carol 
sickened at the sight. With a piercing 
shriek the mother ran toward the water and 
would have rushed in, had not Carol caught 
her and held her as in a vise. A wave 
lapped the shore bringing the skiff nearer, 
so near indeed, that Carol called out some 
words of direction to the little one. She 
could see he was holding with might and 
main to each side of the boat, and, obedient 
to her command, he crouched down into its 
broad bottom. The next influx might force 
the craft a little nearer and she would ven- 
ture in. She stood for a moment watching 
her opportunity, but no sooner had she be- 
gun to take heart, than a violent gust drove 
the skiff out before it to the merciless con- 
trol of the waves. A momentary lull, as if 
the storm had paused to gather its forces for 
a terrific outburst, made it possible to hear 
the approach of footsteps, and as suddenly 


62 


The Vital Touch 


as if he had sprung from the earth, Lynn ap- 
peared upon the scene. 

With an agonizing moan his wife tottered 
toward him. He saw the little craft with 
its helpless burden toss from wave to wave, 
and he understood the mute appeal — under- 
stood that she was imploring him to plunge 
into the seething waters, and battle with the 
furious storm waves for the precious life at 
stake. 

Would it save the child if he did? He 
felt that he could never reach him. The 
mother clung convulsively to him, and her 
lips moved in supplication. He put her 
gently from him and prepared to plunge. 
Carol stood by, her heart throbbing with 
sickening fear and she had an almost irre- 
sistible impulse to pluck him from the fate 
that seemed impending. 

“It would be death,” she cried. 

“It may be as well — perhaps better,” he 
murmured, and was gone. The waves 
lashed the shore with an angry challenge 
and rushed savagely upon him. The ele- 
ments raged. The black clouds overhung 
the water like a funeral pall. Carol turned 
away in horror and in the fading light saw 
Janey lying in a lifeless heap upon the wet 
sand. She lifted her to her feet, and shaking 
her gently, at last succeeded in arousing her 


The Storm 


63 

faculties, and impressing upon her bewild- 
ered mind, the necessity of hastening to the 
house. 

Fortunately Katie was within. 

‘^Mr. Gifford and Laurence are out on 
the water,” Carol called out as they en- 
tered. ^‘Fm going for help. See that Mrs. 
Gifford doesn’t leave the house if you are 
obliged to keep her in by main force. Do 
you understand?” 

‘‘God-a-mercy, yes,” answered the maid, 
crossing herself and beginning to strip off 
the wet clothing from the half-swooning 
woman. 

Carol faced the darkness and the storm 
with resolute courage. The lightning 
spread like a flaming sheet, and the rain 
dashed against her face unheeded. Scarcely 
had she put her foot upon the ground when 
she saw a light glimmering among the 
thick trees and became aware that a car- 
riage was approaching. She must intercept 
it. She struggled toward it, but to her sur- 
prise, the vehicle stopped. “Doubtless it 
is someone who wishes to take refuge here,” 
she thought as she pressed on. She heard 
the carriage door slam, and then a flash of 
light that shot out of the sky piercing the 
blackest depths of the woods, disclosed the 


64 


The Vital Touch 


figure of Alois Vignon. She stood before 
him like an apparition. 

“In heaven’s name, Miss Rutherford, 
why are you here?” he questioned. 

“Oh, Mr. Vignon, help us for mercy’s 
sake! Laurence was playing on the water 
when the storm broke and was carried out 
by the wind, and Lynn dashed in to try to 
save him.” 

“Take care of yourself,” he said, turning, 
away. 

All unconscious of her action, she sprang 
forward and grasped his arm. 

“Oh, what have I done?” she cried in 
horror of exposing him to the same danger. 

He took her trembling hand and pressed 
it warmly for an instant, and repeating his 
caution, disappeared in the darkness. It 
was only a touch of feeling — the coming to- 
gether of two opposite currents of human 
magnetism — but it flashed a message from 
soul to soul. Both had realized from the 
first moment of meeting that they loved 
each other and neither felt constrained to 
conceal it. 

With sinking despair she ran back to- 
ward the public road and, anxious for Mrs. 
Gifford, looked in at the cottage door. 

Hope, rising above fear, assured Janey 
that Carol was returning with tidings. 


The Storm 


65 

‘^Havc they come back? Are they safe?’’ 
she cried as Carol appeared. There was 
no need of an answer; her looks responded 
sadly, and Janey, shrinking into a vacant 
corner, gave shriek after shriek in the in- 
tensity of her anguish. 

‘‘God in his mercy save us,” Katie ejacu- 
lated, retreating to the opposite side of the 
room and wringing her hands. 

Carol, wet and benumbed, folded the 
little quivering body of her friend in her 
arms and pressed her lips against her throb- 
bing temples. 

“Janey dear, be quiet, if you can,” she 
said soothingly. 

“No, no, no, I can’t, I can’t,” she wailedy 
rushing wildly to the door. 

“Come, be quiet,” urged Carol, drawing 
her back forcibly, “I’ve sent out for help. 
And see, the storm is abating! lie here while 
Katie and I pray.” 

Janey’s long association with Carol, had 
inspired her with a confidence akin to su- 
perstition. She made no further attempt to 
resist the calm appeal, but yielded as a 
docile child, to her persuasion. Carol bent 
over her, lightly stroking her forehead, and 
the soft magnetic touches kept her in re- 
straint. 

The minutes seemed endless, although, in 


66 


The Vital Touch 


reality, half an hour had not passed when 
the sound of voices brought a ray of hope. 
Carol’s heart almost stood still with ex- 
pectation. She stole cautiously to the door 
and opening it, recognized Lynn’s voice, 
and the deep, full tones of Alois Vignon, 
and would have cried out for joy but that 
there was still a grave suspense. Was Lau- 
rence safe? Janey started and looked in a 
helpless, bewildered way about the room. 
Lynn was the first to enter the hall, and then 
Alois stood in the doorway with the child 
in his arms. 

“O my God, my God!” cried the mother. 
“Give me my child.” 

She flew to the door, and clasping him to 
her breast, hurried him away for care, 
Katie following. Alois departed unob- 
served, and Lynn, with the pallor of death 
in his face, stood against the wall as motion- 
less as a statue. Carol went to him, and 
drawing the haggard face down to hers, 
kissed it tenderly. 

“Come, dear,” said she. “Let me pre- 
pare the bath for you and something hot to 
drink.” 

He did not speak, but followed her me- 
chanically. 

She went to his door several times before 
she found him in bed, and then gave him 


The Storm 


67 

careful attention. He had not tasted the 
drink, but he appeared to be resting, and 
she thought it best to leave him. 

Janey and her boy were lying in each 
other’s arms, and the house was as quiet as 
a grave. 

Carol was not at all easy about Lynn, but 
at last, weary and exhausted, she went to 
bed and soon fell into a heavy sleep. 

But Lynn had not slept. For a while he 
lay in a stupor, but being aroused by pain, 
rolled heavily upon the bed. 

None knew the horror of his night’s ex- 
perience. Time after time he sank beneath 
the storm waves and felt their mad surging 
above him; then he was dashed to the sur- 
face and tossed about as if he were in the 
power of an enraged animal. Between the 
flashes of lightning that lit up the angry 
face of the waters, he saw a beam of the 
washed-out pier. If only he could reach 
it. Thinking it was his one hope of saving 
himself, he struck out toward it, and as he 
clutched it, he could see in shadowy dim- 
ness, the frightful career of the little craft, 
which was in momentary danger of being 
swallowed by the yawning waves. 

He had abandoned all hope for the child, 
when, as if guided by an invisible hand, the 
skiff was driven shoreward by a long sweep 


68 


The Vital Touch 


of water, followed in quick succession by 
another. Taking courage, he dropped once 
again into the water, and swam, with an 
energy which only desperation makes pos- 
sible, toward the veering skiff. He tried 
to call out to the little one, thinking that if 
he should reach him, the unexpected seiz- 
ure of the craft might overcome him with 
fright; but the uproar of the elements 
drowned his voice. Now he was very near, 
but his strength was giving out, and again 
the skiff was slowly receding. One more 
fight would determine both his fate and that 
of the child. ‘‘Father’s coming, father’s 
coming,” he called out. 

The boy looked about wildly but fright 
had silenced him. 

“Father’s coming,” he tried to say again, 
as he tore his passage through the thick 
water, and at last succeeded in reaching the 
skiff. Urging Laurence to sit still, he be- 
gan to bail out with the aid of a little toy 
bucket which lay filled with sand in the 
bottom of the boat. Fortunately, the inces- 
sant lightning made it possible for him 
again to see the upright timber against 
which he had rested. The oars were gone. 
Cautioning the child to hold firmly to the 
skiff, he thrust one arm into the water, and 
held out the other in readiness to catch the 


The Sto rm 


69 

beam as he paddled toward it. But a gust of 
wind blew them against it with such force 
that Lynn was almost stunned by the sud- 
den contact. He swung his arm around it, 
and holding on with a sort of a dumb in- 
stinct, at last succeeded in winding around 
it the chain which fortunately, was at- 
tached to the skiff. 

His shoulder began to give him excru- 
ciating pain, and he was forced to give up 
the hope of again venturing into the water 
to tow the boat to shore. But he now felt 
safe, for he rested in the full confidence 
that his friends would come to his rescue 
with all possible haste. 

The wild emotion of the waves was sub- 
siding, and their deep breathings were like 
human sobbings after a tearful outburst of 
passion. 

The assurance of help came in an incred- 
ibly short time. A search-light soon quiv- 
ered upon the water and a half dozen lan- 
terns signaled from the shore. The first 
human sound he heard clung to his memory 
as long as he lived. It was the voice of his 
friend, Vignon, borne on the troubled 
waters like a broken melody. The shrill 
treble of the child sent back a tremulous 
answer, but the only utterance of the man 
was a convulsed breath of pain. 


CHAPTER VIII 


AWAKENED WOMANHOOD 

Carol awoke with a start the following 
morning, painful thoughts concerning 
Lynn pressing upon her mind like the re- 
collection of a fearful nightmare. The 
house was perfectly quiet. She looked at 
the bright blue sky shining so cheerfully, 
at the crisp foliage with myriads of spark- 
ling drops trembling on their edges, each 
waiting its turn to fall, like old age tarrying 
near the borderland of another world. 

Everything betokened nature’s serenity 
even as the frightful aspect of the evening 
before had expressed her angriest mood. 

She went out into the hall once or twice 
during the process of dressing, to listen for 
a word or step. But there was no sound. 
Presently the front door below opened and 
closed with unusual vehemence, followed 
by hasty, inarticulate utterances from Katie, 
whose hurrying steps came nearer and 
nearer. 


70 


Awakened Womanhood 


71 


^‘Miss Carol! oh, Miss Carol! Mr. Gif- 
ford’s gone and there’s something awful 
queer about it,” she said nervously, as she 
approached. “He wasn’t in his room when 
I got up, and he hasn’t come back since.” 

She stood looking vacantly at Carol, as 
if expecting some solution of the mystery to 
come through her. 

“Well,” she inquired, “when did you get 
up?” 

“Oh, a long time ago, ’fore daylight, and 
it’s past eight now.” 

“What’s queer about that, Katie?” 

“He’s got on his Tuxweedo, Miss, what- 
ever a man wants with that in this woods be- 
fore breakfast in the mornin’.” 

“His Tuxedo. What do you mean?” 

“Just what I says. Miss, I took it out yes- 
terday afternoon and laid it on a chair in 
his room ’cause I found moths in the box, 
and he’s gone and put it on.” 

“Have you told Mrs. Gifford that?” 

“No, Miss.” 

“That’s right, Katie. We won’t mention 
it just now. I shall be down in a minute.” 

After the maid had gone, Carol stood re- 
flectively. The garment she was in the act 
of putting on fell to the floor. One thing 
was almost certain. His arm was not badly 
sprained. But a thought forced itself into 


72 


The Vital TqucH 


her mind, creating a hideous apprehension. 
It was that of the man as he nerved himself 
to take the desperate plunge; his self-aban- 
donment, and above all, his words: “It may 
be as well, perhaps better.” She had often 
suspected that the growing differences be- 
tween the couple were beginning to have an 
augmentative effect upon the husband’s tem- 
per. Once she was tempted to remonstrate 
with Mrs. Gifford, who was so obviously to 
blame, but had decided against doing so, 
thinking that difficulties of that nature were 
best worked out by those most closely con- 
cerned. 

For r. minute only, she remained in this 
suspense, and then hastily resumed her 
dressing as the more plausible theory of 
delirium recurred to her. 

“No, no! not he — not Lynn, he is the 
bravest, best fellow in the world,” she said, 
audibly. 

“It was such a mistake to leave him alone 
last night,” thought she as she descended 
the stairs, “but there’s nothing to be gained 
by worrying about it.” 

Katie was waiting below with some hot 
chocolate which Carol drank with a delib- 
eration that puzzled the maid, who seemed 
to think that rushing about and talking over 


Awakened Womanhood 73 

the affair was an indispensable rule of con- 
duct. 

“How is Laurence, Katie?’’ asked Carol 
as she arose. 

“Very comfortable indade, considerin’.” 

“And Mrs. Gifford?” 

“She’s been out this hour lookin’ and cal- 
lin’.” 

Janey was approaching the house as 
Carol went out. 

“Why do you suppose Lynn went away so 
early without telling us?” she asked. 

Carol disregarded the question. 

“Where have you looked?” she inquired. 

“Oh everywhere. On the paths of course 
— the grass is so very wet. Don’t you sup- 
pose he has gone over to the hotel to see 
Alois?” 

“You see I have on my life preservers,” 
said Carol, evasively, with all the gayety 
she could command, lifting her short skirt 
and displaying a pair of securely encased 
feet. “We shall find him,” she added with 
a cheerfulness that inspired Mrs. Gifford 
with undoubting confidence. Carol, how- 
ever, grew more and more anxious as the 
minutes went by. 

“Wait till I get on some dry clothes and 
my rubbers, and take a peek at Laurence, 


74 


The Vital Touch 


and see that Katie hasn’t lost her head,” 
said Janey. 

She was soon back and they struck out 
confidently through the deep, green woods, 
calling now and then, but receiving no an- 
swer save an echo. It was gloriously bright 
and warm. The sun’s strong rays shot 
through the trees, and trailed over the 
grassy woodland, drying it as it went along. 
The birds chirped and flitted about as if 
nothing unusual had happened, but many 
a perfect note was lost by the early wander- 
ers. 

They had gone only a short time when a 
ring at the door brought Katie to it with a 
bound. It was Alois Vignon who had come 
to make inquiries, and to him Katie re- 
peated the singular circumstance connected 
with Mr. Gifford’s disappearance. His 
mind, like Carol’s, was made up in an in- 
stant, and he hastened away, leaving word 
that he would join in the search. 

*Tor that there young man,” said the 
maid in semi-tragic voice, as she looked 
after him, “wan of the finest dinners in the 
land was got and spiled, but if he’s as dacent 
as he looks, it wasn’t half good enough.” 

Alois took the path leading from the 
house to the bay, and then turned south, at- 
tracted by two men engaged in wrapping 


Awakened JV omanhood 


75 

straw around some bushes on a neighboring 
lawn. 

“Be you looking for the man what lives 
at Lynnwood?” asked one. 

“Yes,” he answered, stopping. 

“He passed this way an hour or so ago, 
drunker’n a lord. ‘He’s never seen a bed 
the hull night,’ says I to Jim. I knowed 
that ’cause he was dressed in them funny 
togs like the waiters wears up in the big 
hutel. ‘High roller,’ says I. ‘You bet,’ 
says Jim. Them fellers — ” 

“Which way did he go, please.” 

“He seemed to be making tracks for the 
wharf, but they weren’t werry straight ones 
and it’s funny if he got there.” 

“Thank you,” answered the young man, 
passing on. 

Half a dozen men were loitering about 
the dock, and as Alois approached every eye 
was turned on him. He felt that they had 
something to communicate. 

“Looking for Gifford?” called out one. 

It occured to him the men in that vicinity 
must be clairvoyant; they exhibited such a 
surprising propensity for divining people’s 
intentions. 

He answered affirmatively. 

“He took the boat over an hour ago,” 
another volunteered. “By G — d a fellow 


76 


The Vital Touch 


would suppose he had boating enough last 
night, judging from the report. Plenty 
water outside and plenty whiskey inside’s 
his motto. Don’t bother yourself about 
him; he’ll come to ’fore long.” 

Luckily the agent was still on duty. 
After a brief interview, Alois turned away, 
and an old battered-up individual, dressed 
in a soldier’s uniform hobbled after him. 

‘‘Young gentleman,” he called out, “if I 
aint greatly mistaken, Mr. Gifford wasn’t 
drunk at all.” 

“No he wasn’t drunk,” replied Alois. 
“It’s something more serious.” 

“I’m kind’a thick headed or I would’a 
stopped him. I’ve seen too many sick men 
back in the early sixties not to recognize 
one a mile off. What I’ve come after you 
to say is, that he is in first rate good hands, 
for a bigger-hearted fellow than Captain 
Jack Bowers never walked on ship-board. 
Now I suppose you know what you’re going 
to do about it, and if I can help you do it, 
just say so, and I’m your man, or your part 
of a man,” said he, referring to his missing 
member. 

“Yes, I know w^hat I am going to do, and 
you can help me do it. Go to Mrs. Gifford 
at Lynnwood and tell her her husband 
strayed into a steamer this morning in a 


Awakened Womanhood 77 

feverish condition. The boat is on its way 
down Lake Michigan. I will wire the cap- 
tain to take care of him until they get to 
Milwaukee, where I will meet him. This 
seems to me a better way than to land him 
at some nearer town lacking accommoda- 
tions. I have only a short time to catch the 
train,” said he, putting a substantial fee into 
the man’s hand. ^‘Now don’t fail to deliver 
the message at once.” 

^^Does she know who’s sending it?” 

‘‘Yes; my name is Vignon. And by the 
way, say to her that I should advise getting 
someone to stay with them for the present. 
Help them do this if you can.” 

Alois hurried to the station, the man to 
Lynnwood. 

Carol and Mrs. Gifford were returning 
to the house as the soldier approached. 
The message confirmed Carol’s suspicion, 
but even this news, alarming as it was, was 
infinitely better then the dreadful suspense. 

Janey sat pale and worn throughout the 
long morning and as listless as a child after 
a long sick spell. She leaned her head 
wearily back on the cushion, the tears falling 
through her closed eyelids. Carol made no 
effort to interrupt the silence, busying her- 
self, rather, with her own thoughts. 

“Carol,” she said after a while, “did I 


TKe Vital Touch 


78 

speak to Lynn when he came in after the 
storm last night?” 

‘‘I believe not,” Carol answered with 
firmness. f 

“Nor even looked at him?” 

“I think you did not.” 

“I am paying for it now,” she said with 
a quivering voice, and again became silent. 

They intended to go out in search of 
some suitable person to keep them company, 
in accordance with the suggestion of the 
man who brought the message, but a much 
better plan presented itself. 

The news of the accident spread like a 
prairie fire, and the countryfolk and the few 
remaining cottagers flocked thither, some 
with anxious inquiries, others to learn the 
authentic story. Among these, were a 
couple who had pitched their tent early in 
the summer, upon the summit of a hill over- 
looking the bay. 

The Gifford party had exchanged 
friendly greetings with them as they walked 
by the morning after their arrival, and, 
learning that Mrs. ChurchiU’s health re- 
quired this prolonged sequestration, they 
planned to induce them to join in one of 
their jaunts, and as kind thoughts, like kind 
acts are bread cast upon the waters, these 


Awakened Womanhood 79 

good people had now come with the sincer- 
est desire to help in some way. 

Carol, who had declined to accept any 
favors th^t morning, responded to their 
question without the least hesitation. 

“It would be a great relief if you could 
help us find someone to stay with us for a 
few nights. We shouldn’t be timid I think, 
but it would be pleasanter. Several sug- 
gestions have been made, but I believe I 
should place more reliance upon yours.” 

“George, why can’t we bring our tent 
down and live here — right there in that 
pretty spot? It was made for camping,” 
said Mrs. Churchill. 

Her husband acquiesced heartily. 

“It is very gracious of you,” said Carol, 
sweetly. I hope you may realize some little 
advantage in return.” 

“As a matter of fact,” returned Mr. 
Churchill, “it will be an agreeable change. 
As the cooler nights approach, it will be 
warmer and a great deal more comfortable 
down here; so you needn’t feel an over- 
whelming sense of gratitude.” 

Both Carol and Mrs. Gifford exacted a 
promise from their newly found friends 
that they would take no active part in the 
moving. Carol hastened away to look for 
workmen, throwing her natural energy 


8o 


The Vital Touch 


into die undertaking, and Janey returned 
to Laurence with a kind of aimless purpose 
indicative of the state of her mind. 

“Blessed are the poor in furniture, for 
they shall be moved cheaply,’^ quoted Mr. 
Churchill. 

By evening they were cosily settled in 
their new quarters beside the big house, 
Carol remarking that it reminded her of 
a bit of lichen fastened to a tree trunk. 
Katie had prepared a tempting little dinner 
to which the Churchills were urged with 
resistless cordiality. She was noticeably af- 
fected by their kindness. She had conjured 
up many unhappy images of the probable 
fate of three women in that lonely neck 
o’ the woods. “The Lord only knows when 
the poor wanderin’ soul will ever get back, 
after leavin’ with the doors all open and the 
wind howlin’ and us all alone,” she had told 
herself. 

She liked the “style” of the new people 
and smiled benignly as she waited at table. 
In spite of it all, the pleasure of the re- 
past was due to the superior quality of the 
food rather than the cheer of those who 
gathered about the board, and had not Miss 
Rutherford’s wit converted her into a tac- 
tician for the occasion, there would have 
been precious little that was pleasant to 


Awakened Womanhood 8l 

remOTbcr about the first visit of the 
Churchill family to L 3 Tinwood. 

At midnight J ancy still sat heavily, arous- 
ing herself occasionally to glance across the 
room where her child lay sleeping. 
Presently the door opened and Carol looked 
in at the sorrowful little figure bent with 
fatigue. Carol had thrown a red robe over 
her white gown. Her heavy hair, folded 
in two plaits, hung to her waist, her eyes 
were rested and bright, and her cheeks were 
aglow with a healthy flush induced by a 
refreshing sleep. She looked like a picture 
of milady stepping out of the canvas into 
life. Janey raised her eyes and smiled 
sadly as she entered, but the smile was re- 
turned with a look of reproof. 

“Pm sure you have no desire to be ill, 
and sitting up all night won’t help you or 
anyone else.” 

^‘Carol, I believe I shall never forgive 
myself for my treatment of poor Lynn,” 
said Mrs. Gifford tremulously. 

“Now, my dear, you have suffered enough 
in the last twenty-four hours to expiate the 
faults of your entire life, and the way to 
prove your penitence is to avoid repeating 
your mistakes. It’s the only repentance 
worth anything, so bear it in mind, and go 
to bed like a sensible woman. I’m going to 


82 


The Vital Touch 


sleep with you,” she added, beginning, in 
her quiet, gentle way, to undress her friend, 
whose head dropped languidly on her 
shoulder. 

“You are so good, I wish everyone in 
the world could know you as I do,” Janey 
said, touching her cheek softly with her 
trembling lips. 

The friends slept side by side until the 
broad morning sun spread its rays over the 
bed, unsealing their eyes. It was a perfect 
day, but the hours dragged wearily as they 
always do when the heart lacks cheer. 

They were sitting in the house, expect- 
antly, when word concerning Lynn was re- 
ceived from Alois. Janey took the message 
with surprising composure and handed it 
to Carol, who in turn, read: 

“Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Pfister Hotel, 
September 14, 19 — 

Lynn in Milwaukee Hospital. Condi- 
tion serious but not dangerous. Will await 
advice.” 

Janey sat silently for some time. 

“Carol,” she said at length, “I’m going 
to ask a favor of you.” 

“It’s granted,” replied the other, cheerily. 

“Thank you, dear. I’m going to ask you 
to stay here with Laurie for a few days.” 

“And you — ” 


Awakened Womanhood 


83 


am going to my husband.” 

‘‘When are you going?” 

“To-day. At three o’clock.” 

“Of course I shall stay. I shall be glad 
to, but if I may suggest, wouldn’t it be bet- 
ter to close the cottage and take him home 
when he is able to travel?” 

“I shall consent to that plan willingly if 
you prefer it, but we may return in a few 
days as both Lynn and Laurence will re- 
cuperate more speedily here than in town. 
It’s asking a great deal, I know, but you are 
so resourceful.” 

“I shall be quite happy to stay, so don’t 
think another thing about me, please, think 
of yourself. You will arrive at night, you 
know.” 

“I shan’t mind that. I shan’t mind any- 
thing.” 

Janey’s eyes were kindled with a new 
light and an eager flush spread over her 
face. At last the spoiled child had awak- 
ened to the responsibilities of womanhood. 
She who had always leaned on another, was 
gathering strength and courage with every 
step, and all obstacles were vanishing as if 
by magic. Experience had taught Carol 
not to expect an exceptional line of conduct 
from her friend, for she had always been a 
victim of her own indecision. She there- 


84 


The Vital Touch 


fore looked on wonderingly, as Janey laid 
her plans with unwavering resolution. 

“The nurse will be here very soon — 
probably today — that will relieve you of 
some anxiety, and the Churchills will be 
pleasant company; but indeed, I sincerely 
wish there was someone else,” said she. 

“I shall get along very well without any- 
one else — well, let’s see, there is cousin 
Elizabeth Waring who lives only thirty 
miles north of here.” 

“Surely you wouldn’t think of inviting 
her?” 

“Yes, I should. She has nursed her 
mother constantly for nearly a year, and the 
change might benefit her if she could ar- 
range to come.” 

“But heavens! she is so uninteresting.” 

“Yes, but uninteresting people, like Shy- 
lock’s kin, have eyes, hands, organs, dimen- 
sions, senses, affections, passions.” 

“You are an angel!” 

“Oh, no I’m not, I’m only a near-angel. 
I shall expect to do just as I please, conced- 
ing the same privilege to Elizabeth. I 
shall write her to that effect, so she may 
come or not, just as she wishes. She will 
very likely be as interesting to me as I shall 
be to her. Our temperaments are not quite 


Awakened Womanhood 85 

compatible but I shall try m avoid a melee. 
Is there a church near?^^ 

“Yes, there is one hanging up in the 
w^oods, but Fm afraid you v^on’t find the 
Jack-in-the-Pulpit very inspiring.’* 

“I didn’t inquire for myself. Elizabeth 
will probably want to go.” 

“I never knew a person so willing to sac- 
rifice herself as you. Did anyone ever have 
such friends as I have? — Carol and Alois — 
there is a prophesy in the sound of these 
names. I wish — but there is no time for 
wishing, the next three hours must be lively 
realities for me.” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE COMING OF LOVE 

The superb days of autumn were at hand 
with their fresh, bracing air and wild fra- 
grance of flowers and pines. Carol was 
drawn irresistibly to the woods, enjoying 
the free life of Nature with the inquisitive 
little creatures that inhabit her domain. 
She spent much time on the water, too, all 
alone, her heart full of delight, her thoughts 
full of aim. One less optimistic would 
have rebelled, at least secretly, at this en- 
forced isolation, but she resolved to make 
her days of solitude sweet and wholesome, 
that each should have its distinctive features 
and be a charming exception to the last. 

Miss Steele, the nurse, came the morning 
after Mrs. Gifford’s departure, much to 
Carol’s relief, as Laurence’s fever had taken 
on an intermittent turn, and she was thank- 
ful she had suppressed an objection to send- 
ing for help. She would have enjoyed car- 
ing for the little fellow, but was unwilling 
86 


The Coming of Love 87 

to rely on her own judgment in case of an 
unexpected change in his condition. Miss 
Steele was unmistakably competent, and the 
little sufferer grew stronger and brighter 
each day. Mrs. Gifford’s letters were 
cheerful, and all circumstances combined 
to encourage Carol to follow her out-of- 
door pursuits, with happy spirit. 

Elizabeth Waring had also arrived, hav- 
ing responded to the invitation in person as 
Carol hoped she would. It was not unex- 
pected to the cousins that their respective 
inclinations kept them apart much of the 
time, so each went her way, neither making 
an attempt to simulate an interest in the 
other. 

Miss Waring’s life had been pressed into 
a narrow groove. She had had a long train- 
ing in a village school of gossip, and was 
quick to recognize a congenial spirit in 
Miss Steele, who not only had had a varied 
experience in the same line, but showed a 
ready willingness to communicate the re- 
sult. She was, therefore, a source of un- 
wearying interest to Miss Waring, and they 
spent hours in friendly intercourse. 

Thus society had a standard at Lynn- 
wood, as elsewhere, and while Carol was 
enjoying herself in her own way, within the 
cottage were held m^ny animated discovirses 


31 The Vital Touch 

relative to other people’s business and 
affairs in general. 

Carol was convinced that Elizabeth 
would be happier to follow her own bent, 
yet she never failed to give her an oppor- 
tunity of sharing her pastime, if she showed 
the slightest desire to do so. 

am going up on the hill to see the sun 
set, do you care to go, Elizabeth?” she said 
at the close of a beautiful day. 

“No, I believe not, thank you. I went 
last evening, you know. It was lovely,” she 
added ingratiatingly, “but once is enough, 
if you don’t mind my saying so.” 

“Not at all,” Carol answered quietly, and 
made her way toward the hill with that 
bouyant step which was the natural action 
of her splendid physique. 

As soon as she was out of hearing, Eliz- 
abeth turned to Miss Steele, who sat upon 
the porch steps darning stockings : 

“I always did imagine my cousin was 
kind of erratic and now I’m sure of it. 
What possible interest can she have gazing 
at the sun every night like a heathen?” 

“Everyone to his notion,” replied Miss 
Steele. 

“I shouldn’t care how many notions she 
had, if they didn’t get on my nerves so,” 
said Elizabeth fretfully. 


The Coming of Love 89 

Far away on the hill stood Carol, her 
beautiful figure relieved against the chang- 
ing sky. The sun was sinking in a blaze of 
light below the low-hanging crimson clouds 
which seemed to pause in their course like 
loyal subjects bowing obeisance to a depart- 
ing monarch. Every minute brought some 
beautiful change of outline and tint to the 
lighter clouds breaking up over the deep 
blue, and it was not till the draperies of 
night were drawn well over the sky, that the 
solitary worshipper went back through the 
darkening woods and joined the others at 
the cottage. 

The next day was one of perfect loveli- 
ness. A gentle rain in the early morning 
had freshened the air and the earth. Again 
the vivid rose colorings of evening were 
softening into the mellow shades of twi- 
light, and the chill was creeping through 
the air. The occupants of Lynnwood, and 
the Churchills had just parted company af- 
ter having had an afternoon’s lunch and 
games out-of-doors, in honor of Laurie’s 
^‘coming out.” He was by no means the 
romping sprite he had been before his ex- 
posure, and his anxious attempt to help Mr. 
Churchill gather sticks to make his canvas 
quarters comfortable, had a very enervating 
effect upon his little body. As night ap- 


90 


The Vital Touch 


proached, his quiescence became notice- 
able; so Mrs. Churchill did not divulge her 
plans to make the twilight bright and cheer- 
ful, and the party broke up at an early hour. 
The exercise and change had a beneficial 
effect upon the invalid, however, and he 
soon fell into a deeper sleep than he had 
had since his frightful experience. 

Later in the evening, Carol and Elizabeth 
Waring sat together in the living-room, the 
former busily writing letters and the latter 
taking an indifferent interest in a book as 
she rocked slowly to and fro. Not a sound 
was heard except the rapid movement of 
the pen and the occasional creaking of the 
rocking chair. The silence, which was of 
material aid to the thoughtful writer, lay 
like an oppressive hand upon the other. 

Elizabeth had her own peculiar way of 
looking at things. On this occasion she 
demonstrated the fact by shooting swift 
glances across the table, by way of making 
side-light reflections upon the character of 
a person who could sit through the endur- 
ing hours as indifferent to others, as if there 
were no one but herself in the world. At 
last the pen stopped. The paper was folded 
carefully and the envelope addressed and 
sealed; all this without a look in the oppo- 
site direction. While Carol was taking ^ 


The Coming of Love 


91 


fresh sheet of paper, Miss Waring decided 
to change the order of the evening. She had 
thought of several things to say, but now 
that the opportunity for saying them was at 
hand, they vanished. She cast her steel- 
gray eyes about the room from ceiling to 
floor, and remarked: 

“This is a beautiful summer home, isn’t 
it?” 

'7 think it is.” 

“It’s a pity Janey Gifford can’t be satis- 
fied with all she has. I understand she is 
unhappy most of the time.” 

“I suppose it is not human nature to be 
entirely satisfied.” 

Miss Waring, encouraged by this hopeful 
sign of acquiescence, continued: 

“I’m told that her husband’s indulgence 
is something surprising — that he indulges 
her every whim.” 

“He does, indeed.” 

“Don’t you think it’s a sign of his extreme 
weakness of character?” 

“I think it’s a sign of his extreme strength 
of character and good sense,” answered 
Carol, resuming her occupation. 

Miss Waring’s face flushed a little and 
then she interrupted: 

“Do you mean to say you think her man- 
ners are becoming?” 


92 


The Vital Touch 


^‘Yes, to Mrs. Gifford. They are like the 
dimple in her chin, a bewitching part of 
her, but in your chin or mine it would be 
hideous. Her faults are on the surface, and 
her nature is large. It is very generous.” 

Miss Waring gave a sweeping glance 
about the room, and then it settled on the 
unconscious writer in slow contemplation. 

“You know just as well as I do that she’s 
a whole bundle of contradictions,” she said 
at length, and as there was no answer forth- 
coming, she made up her mind she had 
gotten the best of the argument and felt 
better for it. 

A firm footstep fell upon the gravel walk, 
coming nearer and nearer. Each woman 
looked at the other inquiringly, and in an- 
other instant both arose. 

“Do you suppose it’s Mr. Churchill?” 
asked Elizabeth. 

“No, he is approaching from the opposite 
side.” 

The bell rang gently and Carol started 
to the door. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” questioned Eliza- 
beth, retreating a little. 

“Not a bit afraid,” said Carol as she 
opened the door with a wide swing. 

She had expected to come face to face 
with a messenger, but a little cry of sur- 


The Coming of Love 


93 


prise, that had a distinctly joyous note, 
escaped her and was caught up by the quick 
ear of the newcomer. Their hands met in 
an expressive clasp. 

“I don’t wonder that you are surprised. 
I have presumed to come without permis- 
sion as there seemed to be no other plan,” 
he said, divesting himself of his great coat 
as if confident that his welcome was assured. 

It was Alois Vignon. There was an in- 
dividuality in his clear-cut, smoothly shaven 
face that made an interesting study, though 
his history, in the abstract, was marked as 
indelibly as a name written on stone. The 
most casual observer would have charac- 
terized him a collegian, a gentleman. His 
brow was broad, his countenance serious; 
yet, in contradistinction to these legible 
signs of character, there came and went an 
expression as fitful as the lights and shad- 
ows of a spring day. This, however, be- 
longed far less legitimately to the general 
features than to his dark, mercurial eyes. 
They seemed to be everywhere and yet they 
v/ere not restless, and they seemed to leave 
something of themselves in everything they 
looked upon. When serious, an apparent 
power of penetration carried them beyond 
their gaze to some mysterious depth. When 
amused, they sent out sparkles that played 


94 


The Vital Touch 


about his face like magic, their light flitting 
on before his thoughts like the swift beams 
that run before a sunburst. 

Carol and he entered the room side by 
side and even the inflexible Elizabeth 
smiled approvingly, although unaware that 
she had committed herself so far. When 
Carol had presented him she said, 

“You must have discovered a new route, 
Mr. Vignon. I didn’t know there was a 
train in the evening.” 

“I’m on my way to St. Xavier Missions 
and there has been a change which makes 
it possible to stop over and take the boat at 
ten,” said he. He assigned no reason for 
coming nor did Miss Rutherford expect it. 
There was an instinctive confidence between 
these two, which from their first meeting 
had been given and taken with frank 
acceptance. 

The conversation naturally turned to the 
Giffords, and Miss Waring looked from 
one to the other, as they talked, listening 
with curious interest. It was never possible 
to divine her thoughts but her mood seem- 
ed to be more receptive than it had been at 
any time since her arrival; so much so, that 
when she arose to leave, it was with an ill- 
concealed desire to remain. These two 
bright, interesting persons giving out 


The Coming of Love 


95 


“thought for thought and sparkle for 
sparkle,” presented a new phase of life 
which she was reluctant to relinquish. 

“Stay, Elizabeth,” said Carol kindly, 
“and we shall question Mr. Vignon about 
his travels. I suppose that demand is 
pressed to the point of monotony, but it 
should be given as a willing price for your 
experience.” 

Elizabeth resumed her seat. 

“You have traveled extensively?” she 
asked. 

“Yes,” he replied with a rising inflection 
of the voice. 

“And have you grown wise. Monsieur 
Traveler?” asked Carol quizzically, opening 
her big brown eyes very wide, her face 
lighting up with childish animation. 

“There are experiences that make us 
wiser than any we get from travel,” he an- 
swered with sudden gravity, which she imi- 
tated, saying, 

“To what extremity of feeling has it 
brought you?” 

“That ’tis not worth while to go around 
the world to count the cats in Zanzibar,” he 
quoted with quick play. 

Elizabeth smiled and regarded him curi- 
ously. 

“Indeed, Mr. Vignon,” said she, “it 


96 


The Vital Touch 


would be interesting to know how the winds 
of destiny happened to blow you so far 
away from home.” 

“I have spent a great part of my life in 
a seminary,” he proceeded. “From the 
time I was fourteen till my brother, Father 
Vignon, and I came to the United States six 
years ago, I had practically no contact with 
the outside world except by means of long 
lines of travel under the guardianship of 
priests. During the long vacations we went 
abroad — almost everywhere. Our guides 
were companionable men, generally speak- 
ing, keen and alert. Of course the experi- 
ence of travel included only a favored few, 
but with due deference to such educational 
methods, I think, as I said before, it is a long 
way round. I believe it is possible to jour- 
ney farther than I have ever gone without 
bothering to go so far out of one’s way. 
This thought recurred to me this morning as 
I watched a robust trainman work his en- 
gine out of a difficulty. I took off my hat to 
that big fellow and have felt insignificant 
ever since. I longed to take a hand in the 
work, but was ashamed to think how little 
I should know about it.” 

“Did it occur to you how little that me- 
chanic would know about your work?” 
asked Carol. 


97 


The Coming of Love 

“The world would get along well enough 
if the Romance languages were not taught 
at all, wouldn’t it?” he answered lightly. 

Carol smiled. “Tell us what your work- 
ingman hero has to do with long distance,” 
said she. “I interrupted you.” 

“Only this: We travel to Rome to gaze 
upon a piece of cold marble representing 
the ideal man, when a masterpiece from the 
hand of God may be seen any day in the 
healthy presence of a workman engaged in 
a trade or occupation. I remember stray- 
ing into the Malleable Iron Works in the 
city one hot day, and seeing a young 
moulder stripped at his work — a living 
Apollo — the reality, of which the ideal is 
only a symbol. The living intelligence re- 
flected the Divine Mind as he went about, 
self-reliant, perfectly poised, natural, gay 
— himself a god. And one often meets in 
his daily circuit that, which, in his grand 
tours he will likely overlook. I believe 
there are as many wonders in any public 
road as there are in the finest art gallery in 
the world, if the eye were trained to see 
them.” 

His words flowed as naturally as water 
courses down a mountain pass, and Miss 
Rutherford’s color brightened perceptibly 
as she listened. She had expected to find 


The VAtal Touch 


98 

him on closer association just what he now 
proved to be — this man to whom she was 
linked by the strongest sympathy — and each 
minute confirmed her impressions. 

His mobile eyes, like waves of light that 
had paused in their motion, rested on her 
as if reluctant to depart from the object of 
their gaze, and she, sunned by their bright- 
ness, unfolded her charms as naturally as a 
perfectly nourished flower unfolds itself 
into full life. 

Nothing would have pleased her more 
than to remain upon this favorite ground, 
but she was afraid of carrying the conversa- 
tion too far beyond her cousin’s reach, and 
tactfully brought it back to the starting 
point. They talked of the galleries and the 
gardens of Europe, the religions and tradi- 
tions of the East, its people and their cus- 
toms, and the minutes flew by almost 
unrealized. 

The door had scarcely closed upon their 
interesting caller, when Miss Waring 
turned to Carol with the inquiry, 

“Have you been in his company a great 
deal?” 

“Only twice before,” was the truthful 
answer. 

“Really I imagined you had known each 
other always,” said she, walking out of the 


99 


The Coming of Love 

room. And Carol, staying after her to put 
out the lights, thought almost audibly, 
“Some people are wiser in their ‘imagin- 
ings’ than when they make use of their com- 
mon sense.” 

Miss Waring went straight to Miss 
Steele, who, after straining her ears to hear 
what was taking place below, was waiting 
for further news. It was so unusual to re- 
ceive a caller that she was brimfull of 
curiosity. 

“Who is he?” she questioned. 

“A teacher of languages, it seems, a 
friend of the Gififords, a young man, a fine 
young man, there’s no use talking. About 
medium height, he is, or a little above, and 
he has a' fine form and handsome face. Say, 
I can’t but think Miss Rutherford a very 
forward girl. She admitted that she had 
only met him a time or two, and you’d actu- 
ally have thought they were lovers. You 
know, I believe he’s badly smitten! it was 
nothing in particular that he said or did, 
but still I think so. They’d make a stunning 
couple, although she isn’t even passably 
good looking. She’s brilliant, but it’d be a 
pity if she wasn’t, after the opportunities 
she’s had. I don’t give her a speck of credit. 
I guess I’d be brilliant, too. She threw her- 
self into a chair and began to unlace her 
shoes. 


lOO 


The Vital Touch 


“You know I felt abominably stupid. 
Half the time I didn’t catch on to the last 
thing they said until it was too late to grasp 
the next. I reminded myself of our old 
horse that jogs along at the same slow pace, 
and his hide is so thick he doesn’t feel the 
touch of the whip before it’s time to whip 
him up again.” So ran the conversation 
until another hour had passed. 

After taking her customary look at the 
sleeping child, Carol went directly to her 
own room. The passing of the young man 
into the night had doubtless impelled her 
steps to the open window, where, parting 
the lace draperies, she sank upon a low chair 
and rested her head against the upright 
casement. The darkness was impenetrable, 
but were it not that he had gone forth to 
encounter it, it would have made as little 
impression upon the watcher as the fitful 
breeze that played about her. She was ex- 
periencing that mental joy which illumin- 
ates night as well as day — that blesses one’s 
waking hours with peace and in sleep lulls 
him into deep serenity. Thus it was that 
Love had come. Hers was not the sudden 
rapture which causes the blood to bound 
and the pulse to thrill ; that leaps about one 
like a consuming flame. It came over her 
spirit like an enchanting melody, low and 


The Coming of Love loi 

soft at first, then bursting forth into an 
earnest, passionate strain. She loved him 
not a jot more now than the first time their 
eyes met, and that glance penetrated eternal 
depths. It was then as if they had come 
together out of the far, distant past and their 
hidden destiny had suddenly been un- 
veiled — as if there was a consummate pur- 
pose in their meeting, as when bride and 
bridegroom meet at the altar to pledge their 
troth. At that moment an intelligible 
voice from the recesses of her soul whis- 
pered, ^‘He is the man I love,’’ and the 
knowledge was absolute. There was no 
impatient wish to abridge the time of their 
next meeting, no overmastering impulses; 
no longing to probe the depths of his love 
or to weigh it against her own; no dreamy 
attempt to collect proofs by incidental 
words and looks and signs. She well knew 
that the sustaining power of her desire was 
to 

‘ ‘ Seek not the end of love in this act or that act — 
lest indeed it become the end; 

But seek this act and that act and thousands of 
acts whose end is love — 

So shalt thou at last create that which thou now 
desirest ; 

And then when these are all past and gone there 
shall remain to thee a great and immortal pos- 
session, which no man can take away.’^ 


102 


The Vital Touch 


She heard the loud, phlegmatic whistle 
of the boat, followed by its first labored mo- 
tions, like a drowsy giant awakening from 
a deep sleep. She watched the glistening 
movement of the lights among the trees as 
it swept along the watery path with brawny 
strength; then all was quiet again, save the 
rhythmic breathing of the night. At length 
she arose and lighted the little candle that 
stood at the right of her dressing table. 
Had she so much as glanced at the image 
reflected in the mirror, she must have been 
impressed with the change. The noble 
countenance had been transformed into 
radiant beauty, the calm, sweet face 
beamed with exuberant joy. The great pas- 
sion of love had wrought a transfiguration. 
The guiding principle of her life had been 
found, and a great force was added to hers. 
It was like the meeting of two strong cur- 
rents, and she felt that the quickened stream 
of her life was to bear her away to a new 
world of endeavor. She longed to make 
everyone happy. A feeling of infinite ten- 
derness came over her, for the supreme 
realization of love was hers, the desire to 
share its happiness with all the world. 
Sleep came to her as softly as the petals fall 
from the rose, for the peace that surpasseth 
understanding dwelt with her. 


CHAPTER X 


A SERIOUS WOUND 

Not an incident of special note marked 
the events of the next three weeks. Every- 
thing went on simply and quietly, each one 
pursuing her own course. Carol reveled in 
the romantic charms of the woods and wa- 
ter, radiantly happy as they invariably are 
who are en rapport with the universal 
scheme. The joy of love was hers, the joy 
of loving and being loved. To live was 
ecstacy; duty was a delight; labor a pas- 
sionate desire. Every object was beautiful; 
every wish Stood within the range of possi- 
bility ; every ambition was attainable. Even 
her settlement plan of work, once so vague 
and distant, seemed to grow plain and to 
come nearer — so near, that she lunged to 
put her hands upon it and make a start. 

Miss Waring and the nurse relieved the 
tedium to the best of their ability. Twice a 
week they went to the village church and 
between times talked over the ecc-entricities 
103 


104 


The Vital Touch 


of the minister and ridiculed the congrega- 
tion; but Elizabeth always felt better for 
having gone, and fancied things did not turn 
out just right when she missed. 

“You never pray, I suppose,” she once 
asked Carol. 

“That depends on what you call prayer.” 

“What I call prayer? I call prayer com- 
muning with God.” 

“Yes,” answered Carol, “I pray some- 
times.” 

“What do you call prayer?” Elizabeth 
questioned sharply. 

“Spiritualized desire.” 

“Really, cousin, I should think you would 
be afraid to say such impious things.” 

“Well, if you are afraid you should never 
say them. Actual sin is a matter of con- 
science, you know.” 

Each day it became more evident to Carol 
that neither time nor opportunity could 
draw Elizabeth and herself into amicable 
relations. 

At last word was received of the Giffords’ 
intention to return, and Elizabeth, who was 
about to take leave, concluded with a kind 
of compulsory regard for the proprieties, 
to stay over to see them. Every one felt 
cheered, and plans for welcoming them 
were begun with a wave of enthusiasm. 


A Serious JV ound 


105 

The house was put in perfect order in the 
morning, and extra preparations were made 
by Katie, who understood the magic of a bit 
of home cooking on a hungry body. All, 
including the Churchills, were ready and 
waiting for train time, when a message came 
stating that on account of a slight indisposi- 
tion, Mr. Gifford had been advised not to 
attempt to travel for a few days. 

Carol and Mrs. Churchill were quick to 
notice that a certain little boy whose spirits 
had been unusually active, had suddenly 
lost his animation, and was struggling 
against a strong inclination to cry. 

“IVe been thinking what fun it would be 
to take our lunches and go nutting,” sug- 
gested Mrs. Churchill. 

‘^Just the thing to do, exactly,” said Carol 
interpreting the design. 

^‘That’s a funny notion! what do you ex- 
pect to do with nuts? We shall be break- 
ing up in a few days,” Mr. Churchill 
remarked. 

His wife put her fingers to her lips and 
shook her head. He grasped the situation 
with laughable cunning. 

“It would be a lark just the same,” said 
he. “We’re off. Catch us if you can.” 
Laurence was suddenly hoisted upon giant 
shoulders, and Mr. Churchill bounded off 


io6 The Vital Touch 

with him like a wild stag and quite as re- 
gardless of the underbrush and leafless 
branches. The women stood for a few min- 
utes listening to the child’s ringing laugh 
and then dispersed to make hasty prepara- 
tions to follow. 

After dinner that evening, Miss Steele 
was endeavoring to interest her charge in a 
story in the hopes of inducing sleep, but his 
eyes rolled nervously. The adventures of 
the day had anything but a quieting effect. 
Elizabeth Waring was to go home the next 
morning and was busy with her packing. 
After a bath and short rest, Carol tripped 
lightly down stairs. She entered the living- 
room, and taking a volume from the little 
book shelf, started to go to the Churchills. 
A man’s footstep arrested her quick move- 
ment. She stood waiting his approach, and 
as the light from the porch fell upon the 
figure she knew that it was Father Vignon. 
She had never before seen him, but surely 
no man could so closely resemble Alois ex- 
cept his brother. Advancing a step or two 
she held out her hand with her wonted 
frankness, 

“I have the pleasure of meeting Father 
Vignon, I believe.” 

“I am Father Vignon,” he replied pleas- 
antly, “and you are ” 


A Serious Wound 107 

“Miss Rutherford. You have come to 
see the Giffords and 'will be disappointed to 
know they have not arrived.’’ 

“Have not arrived?” he repeated with an 
elevation of the eyebrows. “I inquired very 
particularly when they expected to leave 
the hospital and was assured that they in- 
tend.ed to come quite directly.” 

“We received word this morning that 
Mr. Gifford would not be able to travel for 
a few days. Come in, Father Vignon. This 
place is like a prison, you know. All who 
come here must serve their time, as there is 
no possible means of escape.” 

“A prison in that respect only,” he an- 
swered as they entered, looking about the 
room suddenly lighted by Carol’s touch. 
“I was here once before and carried away 
a pleasant recollection of it. I wish Lynn 
and Mrs. Gifford might have been at home. 
I have an uncomfortable feeling of neglect 
in regard to them — to him in particular — 
I have not seen him since his marriage, and 
his perilous adventure brought that fact to 
my mind very forcibly, I assure you.” 

“It was horrible,” said Carol, with a 
reminiscent shudder. 

“His mother was a convert of mine, and 
she requested me to stand by him in the 
important affairs of life. He camped one 


io8 


The Vital Touch 


summer with my brother and me, and I 
grew very fond of him. I feel indirectly 
responsible for the outcome of this union, 
Miss Rutherford, as it was through our 
family associations that he became ac- 
quainted with his wife. They seem to be 
well suited, do they not?” 

^‘Well, yes; I think so,” she answered 
hesitatingly and in a manner that evoked a 
questioning look from the priest. 

He did not know why he had talked so 
confidentially to this young woman, a com- 
plete stranger to him, but like most people, 
he felt instinctively the sincerity of her 
nature. 

“They are each steadily learning the true 
bias of the other’s personality,” she went on 
with simple truth, “and are sure to profit 
by their experience, or rather inexperience. 
This frightful episode may teach them how 
near and dear they really are to each 
other.” 

“Yes, Divine Providence has higher ends 
in view than those evident to our material 
senses.” 

“Mr. Gifford’s courage was nothing 
short of the most daring heroism,” she said. 
“Saving the child was made possible only 
through his unselfish love for the mother.” 

He leaned forward and took from the 


A Serious Wound 109 

table the book she was carrying when he 
met her. 

“You were taking this to a friend, per- 
haps, and I am detaining you.” 

“I was taking it to a friend, but she was 
not expecting it. It will be no great loss if 
she never sees it. What a lot of bright 
ephemeral things are written now-a-days.” 

“Are the contents equally attractive?” he 
asked, glancing first at the binding and 
then at the title. 

“Yes, I think so. The cleverness oozes 
out like the water in the cask of the Dan- 
aides.” 

A fire sparkled in the grate in which a 
log had fallen forward, sending a little 
twirl of smoke through the room. She 
arose to adjust the burning wood, and the 
priest following her movement, was at- 
tracted to a photograph resting against an 
ornament on the mantel. It was a picture 
of Alois. 

Starting across the room and taking the 
photograph in his hands, he asked as he 
scanned it narrowly, 

“Have you met my brother. Miss Ruther- 
ford?” 

“Yes,” she answered. 

‘‘Is he not splendidly educated?” 


no The Vital Touch 

“Indeed I think he is splendidly edu- 
cated.” 

The priest replaced the photograph, and 
looking into the flames to which Carol’s 
stirring had given renewed vigor, went on 
thoughtfully: 

“He is the matured flower of my hope. 
The care and development of this boy has 
been my chief aim. I have spared no en- 
deavor to make him what he is and I am 
proud of the achievement. I have had 
many disappointments in my life, and have 
made many apparent failures, but he, God 
bless him! is always my comforter. It is 
a beautiful thing to love as I love him, to 
realize in the object of your affection the 
culmination of your hopes, and to see your 
own life, as it were, merge into a stronger 
and better one. I am not so well able as I 
should be to carry on my work successfully. 
I even imagine sometimes that my enthusi- 
asms are waning, but I shall have him to 
lean upon in the future. We two are to 
form a union of interest and work, a union 
almost of life itself. He, also, is pledged 
to the church.” 

The bright color, which had mounted to 
her cheeks as she listened with fond antici- 
pation to his words, gradually paled, and 
like a stately flower shaken by a rough 


A Serious Wound in 

blast, she began to tremble uncontrollably. 
She raised her soft, brown eyes, and as if it 
required a confirmation of his words to 
render their meaning comprehensible, she 
faltered, “He is pledged to the church?” 

“Yes,” he replied, all unconscious of the 
effect his words had produced upon his 
listener. “He is to become a priest. He 
was predestined for the priesthood. He is 
bound to the church by honor and duty. 
His life was spared, my good mother be- 
lieved, through the efficacy of prayer, and 
in gratitude she made a vow to consecrate 
his life to God, and faithful son of a 
sainted mother that he is, he intends to ful- 
fill her promise.” 

An unsteady motion of the hand as she 
stepped forward toward the table attracted 
his attention, and at a glance he perceived 
that a physical change had come over her. 

“You are ill. Miss Rutherford,” he ex- 
claimed. “Allow me to assist you.” 

But her proud control was returning 
even then. She thanked him with natural 
grace and walking to the window, threw it 
open with something of her old vigor of 
action. 

“That’s much better,” she said, breathing 
deeply as a current of air swept through 
the room. 


I 12 


The Vital Touch 


am greatly to blame for detaining you 
after what may have been a day of unusual 
exertion,” said he, with evident apprehen- 
sion. 

“No, no; please don’t think of leaving. 
The boat is not due for over an hour. 
Father Vignon,” she said in a low, sweet 
voice, “will you be good enough to tell me 
something about your Negro missions?” 

“I shall be glad to,” he answered, taking 
a chair on the opposite side of the table and 
looking earnestly, rather inquiringly, into 
the pale, thoughtful face. “Our Indian 
missions are vastly more extensive than the 
Negro, our immediate interests in the latter 
being confined to a half dozen poor little 
churches and schools. Our work began 
with the Indians and we have gained an un- 
usually strong foothold with them. You 
are interested in the uplift of the Negro, 
I infer.” 

“I have had a year’s training in settle- 
ment work and shall begin in a very 
humble way.” 

“Then you realize the enormity of the 
task?” 

“Oh, certainly! but I also realize that the 
popular sentiment that you may give a Ne- 
gro any amount of training and you will see 
very little improvement mentally or mor- 


A Serious Wound 113 

ally, is either selfishly asserted, or there is 
something radically wrong in the method. 
However, I have long since ceased to con- 
cern myself with any phase of the Negro 
problem. I propose to work upon the 
principle of justice, as I perceive it, and so 
far as it is in my power, regardless of what 
the object of my labor is or what he is not. 
I have chosen a desolate neighborhood in 
Dougherty County, Georgia, and our en- 
deavor will be to industrialize the younger 
generation. We shall also hope to influ- 
ence the cabin life. I know it is like 
the proverbial drop in the ocean, but I can 
imagine no place in the world where there 
is more pressing need for help. I have seen 
many emerge from the so-called dangers of 
Negro education and become responsible 
men and women.” 

“The gravest danger of Negro education 
is the prejudice that is certain to follow,” 
returned Father Vignon. “Few white men 
are willing to work side by side with a 
Negro, and on the other hand, the Negro 
has outgrown his menial capacity. We 
secured a position some time ago for a 
little light-complexioned girl, and all went 
well with her until it was gossiped about 
that she had colored blood in her veins, 
when she was promptly discharged. She 


The Vital Touch 


I14 

might have become the janitress and no one 
would have objected to her presence, but 
that she would not do, and will likely choose 
her alternative. We cannot be responsi- 
ble,’ said her employers, ‘because the Negro 
never was and never will be our equal.’ ” 

“I often wonder what makes us so sure 
that the Negro never can be our equal,” 
said Carol. 

“I am sure I don’t know,” he replied. 
“It cannot be the circumstances of birth, 
because it must be but an accident that one 
person is born here in America and another 
in Africa where the burnished sun has dark- 
ened his color; and that some freeze under 
the Arctic circle while others burn in the 
Tropics. If it is not an accident, then the 
Common Parent of all has been guilty of 
partiality in creating one race with certain 
divine rights and material privileges. It 
cannot be the inequality of condition that 
makes the difference, for the right of the 
lowest and most depraved white man to in- 
trude his intolerable presence wherever he 
sees fit is undisputed, while some of the 
best men in the world are relegated to 
places set aside for them because they are 
black. So your question is a natural one 
to a thoughtful person. When wc attempt 
to define the word ‘equality’ we shall find 


A Serious Wound 


115 

it very puzzling. It makes a line of de- 
markation between the man of wealth and 
his intellectual neighbor. It makes many 
strange contrasts — it contrasts the masterly 
good sense conveyed in the crude words of 
a submerged toiler with the irksome prattle 
of a dilettante. The act of generosity in the 
meanest man, and the deed of heroism that 
distinguishes the biggest coward put our 
own false behavior to shame. There is the 
lowly home of sweet content into which 
the prince of wealth may look with envy 
but dare not enter. And as Nature frames 
her strong contrasts, she equalizes them by 
that Divine rapport that gives liberty to all 
without distinction, and equality to all with- 
out retrogression; that unites all the nations 
of earth and calls them brothers.” 

His words furrowed the way to the main 
vein of her thoughts and she listened 
eagerly as he proceeded: 

“Your motive, to do right for right’s 
sake, is the highest possible one that can at- 
tach to human endeavor. At the same time, 
you will be taking up a responsibility which 
must ultimately resolve itself into a uni- 
versal obligation regardless of the problems 
involved. The Negro question, will, no 
doubt, assume gigantic proportions in time, 
but no matter what the final issue is dcs- 


ii6 


The Vital Touch 


lined to be, it is the duty of the advanced 
race to prepare their unfortunate fellow- 
men to meet it in the unclouded light of 
reason. God has breathed his divine es- 
sence into each and every one of these 
creatures, and each and every soul is dear to 
Him. I do not believe this course will ever 
lead to the amalgamation of the two races. 
If the negro learns to respect himself, he 
need not wish it. The Jewish people, with 
a lofty sense of their own worth, preserve 
their unity and guard it with jealous care. 
In spite of social amenities and commercial 
interdependence, marriage between Jew 
and Gentile is uncommon, and since there 
always has been this separation between 
these two branches of the same race, why 
entertain such grave fears concerning the 
intermixture of two entirely distinctive 
races.” 

Terminating an hour’s conversation he 
added, 

“As you say. Miss Rutherford, our con- 
cern is less with the problem than the work. 
I shall consider it a privilege to assist you 
in every possible way, and only beg the 
favor of an opportunity.” 


CHAPTER XI 


DESOLATION 

After the priest’s departure, Carol stood 
in the door-way for some minutes, until his 
steps died away and the carriage wheeled 
off into the distance. For the first time in 
her life a feeling of utter loneliness came 
over her. She felt as if the whole world 
were gliding past, leaving her alone and 
desolate. The moon had struggled through 
the clouds and its silvery beams fell upon 
her pale, proud face. She drew her hands 
slowly across her eyes as if to shut out the 
light and stole close to the shadows beneath 
the trees. She had battled successfully with 
her emotions throughout the long evening, 
but now that it .was over, her heart sank 
with humiliation and remorse. 

What need was there for further effort? 
What need of striving and yearning and 
caring? She who had worked out a princi- 
ple of life and had striven to establish a 
true and loyal relation with that principle, 
117 


Ii8 The Vital Touch 

had, when the test came, behaved with as 
little discretion as might have been ex- 
pected from the most unguarded of her sex. 

“Had I received his first avowal with 
becoming modesty, I might have averted 
this consequence,” was the thought that re- 
curred to her again and again, and with it 
came the memory of her unresisting surren- 
der of herself, of her love and her life. 
“What evil force awakened in me this mis- 
conception of things, that I, like a wanton 
creature, tempted a young man from his 
sacred calling and made him forget his 
pledge to a holy cause?” said she almost 
aloud. 

In vain she attempted to dispel the 
thoughts of their first meeting. How they 
had seemed drawn toward each other by an 
attraction more powerful than either; each 
look and word falling so naturally into co- 
ordinate meaning, soul reaching toward 
soul. Was it after all meaningless? Was 
it the gross desire of the flesh and not the 
yearning of the spirit? Was there no other 
or higher motive attached to their impulse 
than that which disposes countless multi- 
tudes of men and women to one another? 
A chill numbness crept over her as the 
trees stirred, and the twisted, frosty leaves 
fell upon her. At last she retraced her 


Desolation 


119 

steps, putting out the lights as she went 
through the house. Her breath came with 
increasing effort and hurt like a palpitating 
wound. 

The door of the child’s room stood ajar. 
She entered and bent over the little form 
bathed in the bright moonlight. He was 
sleeping as peacefully as a folded flower. 
She would not touch the brow of innocence. 
She stole from the room, and entering her 
own, found her way to a chair, into which 
she sank with a sickening sense of failure 
and degradation. Look at it how she 
would, the one forbidding aspect faced her. 
She had ensnared this man into a clandes- 
tine relation, and he had been restrained by 
a sense of guilt, from making even a casual 
mention of her name to his life-long confi- 
dant. His love was hers but it was not 
rightfully hers. She must never see him 
again. She would plan to go home at once. 
To remain, would be to weaken his friends’ 
regard for him or to act a deceitful part. 
An immensity, dark and fearful, sur- 
rounded her. ‘‘Never again to see him,” 
she repeated over and over through the dis- 
mal loneliness of the night. “Never again 
to see him.” And out of the darkness, as 
if born of the thought itself, came a vision 
as real as life. He stood before her. She 


120 


The Vital Touch 


felt his living presence, but not a syllabic 
crossed the silence. The immortal look as 
before flamed out of the depths of his dark 
eyes, and burned into her inmost soul, hold- 
ing her as if by a charm. She stretched out 
her arms to meet him, crying, “I cannot 
make the sacrifice. I cannot renounce 
him.” Then awakening into full conscious- 
ness, she looked wildly about in the dark- 
ness, and shrank back, exhausted into the 
great chair. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE SACRIFICE 

The hours wore on. Toward morning 
Carol arose wearily and went to the win- 
dow. The oblique light of the sinking 
moon silvered the tree-tops and fell in an 
occasional open place. The great silent, 
solemn world made her shudder. The room 
was insufferable. Taking her wrap, which 
lay folded over the back of the chair she 
left vacant, she walked quietly down stairs. 
She had never, never once in her life, been 
so absorbed in her own affairs as to be indif- 
ferent to the comfort of others, and she 
opened the front door with noiseless pres- 
sure and groped her way on to the bay. 
Not an object was distinguishable except 
where the moonbeams lightly touched the 
bushes, throwing a weird brightness here 
and there. She was fatigued, but the air — 
the sweet fragrance of the breath of God — 
cooled her tired eyelids and enabled her to 
breathe naturally. Feeling for the huge 

I2I 


122 


The Vital Touch 


flat-surfaced boulder near the water’s edge 
where it had been her habit to muse and 
plan, she folded her wrap partly over it 
and partly over her shoulders, and sat in the 
old familiar way. 

The plans she had laid so hopefully were 
now scattered, even as the sand she crushed 
beneath her feet. Her past efforts arose 
before her like a dreary parade of specters, 
proclaiming her life a failure. What use 
had she made of life? What use could she 
expect to make of it when the faith that 
heaven itself seemed to whisper was true had 
been piteously betrayed! She sat long in 
the darkness — in the gloom that folded her 
within its chill embrace. Not a sound was 
audible save the liquid murmur of the 
water responding to the light touches of the 
air. 

At last her thoughts ceased their clamor 
and a calming spirit seemed to hover about. 
She breathed deeply and waited, quieter 
now and with awakening courage, as if con- 
scious that the benign ministration was 
drawing near. The gray lines of morning, 
faint and distant, began to appear, and as 
they widened out toward the bay, she looked 
up with a half-smile of recognition. The 
first lyric notes of morning came from afar 
like a suppressed sigh. The form of nature 


The Sacrifice 


123 


appeared as vague and dim as a mirage. 
As the minutes brightened into the first soft 
light and the full music of morning thrilled 
in, the tumult within her abated like the 
subsiding of waves after a great storm. 
Even the voice of remorse was silenced, 
and the gloom that overshadowed her faded 
with the mists that obscured her view of 
the landscape. 

Peace came with the recurrent habit of 
renewing her strength with the new-born 
day; of opening her soul to receive the flow 
of light and beauty, joy and love. And 
the myriad voices of awakening nature 
whispered soothingly, 

“Sweet are the uses of life.” 

“Sweet are the uses of life,” she an- 
swered. 

“All its experiences may be turned into 
beautiful results,” came the sweet assur- 
ance. 

Out of the long silence that followed, is- 
sued a definite message, and there was per- 
fect calm in her face as she walked back 
to the cottage — that calm which comes to 
the human countenance when the spirit, 
ceasing to struggle, throws itself confidently 
on the Great Center of Being. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE GREEN-EY’D MONSTER WHICH DOTH 
MAKE THE MEAT IT FEEDS ON 

There was no need for early rising at 
the cottage; the sun had wheeled his auto- 
matic way well over the eastern hills be- 
fore anyone awoke. Miss Waring was the 
first to arouse herself, and getting up, lis- 
tened at her door for sounds of active life. 
All was silent. Still in bare feet and gown 
she slipped out and moved noislessly down 
the hall. Seeing that her cousin’s door was 
partly open, she advanced with still greater 
caution, and found, to her surprise, that the 
room was unoccupied. With a single 
sweep of her small vagrant eyes she took in 
the situation. Her breath came quickly as 
if she had seen a frightful object. 

‘‘It is true, then, oh, heavens, it is true! 
My suspicions are confirmed. Mercy on 
me what a discovery. A witness, a witness,” 
she cried. 

She flew rather than walked along the 
124 


The Green-Ey^d Monster 


125 


hall and burst into Miss Steele’s room with 
such vehemence that she started up with a 
scream. 

“What’s the matter, Miss Waring? 
What’s happened?” she cried, bounding out 
on the floor. 

“Hush,” commanded Miss Waring, 
clutching the nurse’s arm with her long 
chilly fingers and forcing her out into the 
hall. 

“I want to prove to you what a rank de- 
ception has been practiced here in this 
house and with what exceeding cunning it 
has been accomplished. See this room — 
that bed — which wasn’t slept in last night?” 
She paused pressing her lips together and 
looking keenly at the nurse as if to ascer- 
tain to what extent she had grasped her 
meaning. 

“Well, what of it?” asked Miss Steele 
meeting her severe eye with questioning 
amazement. “What of it?” 

“Don’t you see that Miss Rutherford — 
I will not call her cousin — isn’t in this 
house, and wherever she spent the night, it 
was in the company of that Catholic 
priest?” 

“Maybe she slept in Mrs. Gififord’s 
room.” 

“No, indeed, she didn’t. That bed has 


126 


The Vital Touch 


not been distrubed either. I know where 
she was, so I do. I was sitting on the top 
step there last night and I saw her leave the 
house with him, and as I am a living wo- 
man, she hasn’t come back yet.” 

‘‘Can it be possible?” said Miss Steele, 
staring at her informant. 

“Of course, it is possible. It is altogether 
too true. Look out for those deep, silent 
people, say I.” 

She leaned against the banister and con- 
tinued: “You know how intuitive I am. 
Well, I seemed drawn out of my room 
quite unaccountably this morning, when, to 
my horror and surprise the plain evidence 
of her guilt thrust itself upon me. How 
unfortunate for myself that I didn’t go yes- 
terday as I had intended. Providence must 
have intercepted my motive on purpose to 
make me an instrument in its hands. Of 
course I shall feel in duty bound to disclose 
this secret to Aunt Helen, dear, unsuspect- 
ing soul that she is! what will she think of 
her favorite then? Of the girl who is the 
center and soul of her every thought and 
ambition and for whom she has severed ev- 
ery tie that binds her to the world. It may 
be that God is punishing her in that way for 
her unjust discrimination. What am I to 
her? What have I ever been? The natural 


The Green-Ey* d Monster 127 

law gives me an equal right to her regard, 
but she treats me like an alien in com- 
parison.” 

Miss Waring had fastened her hawk-like 
eyes on the other woman, who listened with 
attentive curiosity to this interesting bit of 
family history, and who, while admitting 
that there were firm grounds for Miss War- 
ing’s suspicions, was convinced that she 
would take a sinister satisfaction in the un- 
doing of her relative, and meant to lose no 
time in turning it to her own advantage. 
Elizabeth stood quivering and whispering, 
and turning her craney neck as if to guard 
against being overheard. With her thin 
shanks protruding below a short night 
dress, and her wisp of hair plaited and 
drawn well up on her scalp, she gave a 
humorous hint of a Chinese mandarin. 

The door opened cautiously and again 
Miss Steele suffered herself to be dragged 
through the hall. 

“Now for further proof of guilt,” whis- 
pered Elizabeth, as they slipped into an 
alcove. “When she turns to go into her 
room we’ll peep,” she said, drawing the 
drapery aside to make ready. “You’ll see 
she’ll be dressed exactly as she was last 
evening at dinner.” 

There was time to say no more. Accord- 


128 


The Vital Touch 


ing to expectation, Carol ascended the stairs 
and walked softly to her own room, all un- 
conscious of being spied upon, but doubt- 
less no less indifferent than if she had been 
fully aware of the vigilance and its motive 
as well. 

Miss Waring’s prediction was true. She 
still wore the same white pique frock, and 
the same ornament, a string of coral beads. 
As the door closed behind her, the two wo- 
men emerged from the alcove and scurried 
across the hall to Miss Steele’s room. 

“Are you convinced?” asked Miss War- 
ing, looking very sharp and wise. 

“It’s plain enough,” replied the other, 
biting her lips and shaking her head as 
much as to say, “How dreadful!” 

“How glad I am that I’m to go this 
morning. I don’t see how I can treat her 
civilly,” said Miss Waring in virtuous in- 
dignation. “Now mark me, she will ap- 
pear at breakfast in negligee with affected 
innocence. Lord! Lord! What a world, 
what a world!” 

The confab continued for a half an hour, 
till Katie shuffled down stairs and began the 
activities of the day in her usual energetic 
manner. Both the nurse and Elizabeth 
obeyed promptly the summons to break- 
fast, but Katie, accustomed to Miss Ruther- 


The Green-Ey^d Monster 


129 


ford’s presence, had decided in the auto- 
cratic way of cooks to await her coming. 

“Our breakfast if you please,” said Miss 
Waring authoritatively. 

“I’m awaitin’ for the lady,” replied the 
maid pertly. 

“You don’t intend to wait all day for 
‘the lady’ I hope.” 

“Well that depends,” said she, crossing 
the room to go up stairs, leaving Miss War- 
ing thrumming nervously on the table. 

None of her manoeuvres were lost to 
Katie, who looked out of the corner of her 
eye as she walked straight along with her 
nose inclined toward the top of the stairs. 

“The likes o’ them,” she expostulated, 
“wanting to be served ’afore a rale lady! 
Not while Katie O’Brien has anythin’ to do 
wid it.” 

Returning, she placed the breakfast 
dishes upon the table with irritating delib- 
eration, and after arranging something 
tempting for Carol on a silver tray, again 
went upstairs leaving the two women to 
their own devices. 

Her face beamed with good-natured 
pleasure as she stood at the bedroom door: 
“Come now, my pretty dear, you must eat, 
’cause \i you don’t the sparkle will fly out 
of your bright, brown eyes and you’ll grow 


130 


The Vital Touch 


sick and droop. The fairies have made 
you a bower wid their own hands and the 
sun shines in and it smells grand like.” She 
had exhausted her command of euphuistic 
words but by no means her abundant sup- 
ply of sympathy, and continued, 

“You’re a-feeling bad like this mornin’ 
I know. I never see you look so pale afore 
and I’d be lackin’ in my jooty not to insist. 
Come now and see a pretty sight.” 

Carol arose more out of appreciation 
than inclination, and Katie led the way out 
through the glass door at the end of the 
hall, at which Mr. Gifford stood one sultry 
day battling with his emotions, to a balcony 
upon which a breakfast table was impro- 
vised. 

The slender robes of autumn still clung 
to her shattered form like the draperies of 
a bronze torso. Streams of golden light 
poured through the thin foliage and the 
overhanging branches waved gently to and 
fro. 

“Yes, Katie, it is a pretty bower and the 
fairies are just this minute trooping past. 
Can’t you hear them?” 

The maid hurried away feeling amply 
repaid for her effort. 

Carol drew her cloak about her and sat 
shivering at the table. She made several 


The Green-Ey^d Monster 13 1 

attempts to eat, but finally gave it up and 
threw the contents of one dish after another 
far over the railing. 

“Is Miss Rutherford dressed to go to the 
station with me?” inquired Elizabeth with 
a crafty wink at the nurse as Katie returned 
to the dining room. 

“She’s got on that red silk kimonie that’s 
so becomin’ to the sweet-faced thing,” she 
answered. 

Miss Waring sneered and looked down 
at the plate before her. 

“I told you so,” she said with an air of 
superior wisdom. 

A couple of hours later she was waiting 
at the station, anxious to bid farewell to 
Lynnwood where her sense of morality had 
been shocked beyond reclaim. Carol bade 
her good-bye with the same undemonstra- 
tive courtesy that marked her mode of wel- 
coming two weeks before. She sent many 
kind messages to her Aunt Waring and sev- 
eral material evidences of her affection as 
well. Elizabeth returned the attentions 
with dignified reserve, which she intended 
as a marked insinuation to Carol that she 
was fully aware of her duplicity, and went 
away perfectly convinced that her keen ar- 
rows had given her cousin’s guilty con- 
science a fatal shot. 


CHAPTER XIV 


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 

Little Laurence’s restlessness was increas- 
ing hour by hour, taxing Carol’s ingenuity 
to keep him from open rebellion against 
the existing order of things. 

The incidental occurrences connected 
with the train’s arrival and departure af- 
forded him some amusement when they 
went to see Elizabeth off that morning, so 
in the hope of diversifying the time, Carol 
suggested that they go again in the after- 
noon. 

They started out early after luncheon, 
loitering in the woods, gathering bits of 
lichens, identifying the birds by stray notes, 
venturing along the smooth-worn trails that 
pointed the way to broken-up camp or de- 
serted hut, and over the rougher ones lead- 
ing to spring and pond. 

Following these simple pursuits, the 
time flew by unheeded, and the strollers 
would probably have forgotten the real ob- 
132 


133 


An Unexpected Meeting 

ject of their tramp, had not their attention 
been reclaimed by the familiar happenings 
suggestive of train time in rural districts — > 
the admonishing voice of the anxious driver 
threatening his sleepy team, the loud rattle 
of the mail coach, and the hurrying across 
country of a man and woman, taking turns 
in carrying their globular little offspring, 
who had put his foot down on walking an- 
other step. Taking their cue from these in- 
fallible signs, they, too, turned toward the 
station and joined the little crowd. 

Everybody appeared to know everybody 
else except the fashionably dressed young 
lady with the delicate looking boy, who 
looked on curiously. There was much 
hand-shaking and gossiping and bustling 
about, and at last, at a signal from the iron 
monster, all feet lined up on the platform, 
like the characters in a play just before the 
curtain falls on the last act. 

The first person to alight was a quaint 
old lady carrying an immense basket. 

“Lor’ bless you, mother, don’t you know 
it’s Sunday? It’s a wonder you didn’t buy 
the hull grocery store!” said her big mid- 
dle-aged son, elbowing his way to her as- 
sistance. 

“I’m a bit likely to buy the hull grocery 
store some day, and to fetch old man Stor- 


134 


The Vital Touch 


mer along with his goods,” she said with 
ready wit that made folks laugh, and the 
big son wish he had not said anything. 

A crowd of men followed, so engrossed 
in conversation that they stopped on the 
rear platform of the train to conclude the 
argument from which they were most un- 
ceremoniously routed by the strenuous con- 
ductor, who took occasion to include in his 
ousting everybody within reach. Then a 
prim little woman came mincing along, 
holding out a paper bag at half an arm’s 
length, blissfully unaware that a fine trail 
of white grains was sifting through it. This 
made Laurence laugh, but his amusement 
was suddenly checked by the unexpected 
appearance of a couple who were the next 
to emerge from the train. With a cry of ex- 
citement he fought his way through the 
crowd and the next moment was in his 
mother’s arms. 

“How did you know we were coming?” 
she asked as Carol approached. 

“Do you think we of Lynnwood don’t 
know what is taking place in the world?” 

“You must have developed extraordinary 
psychic powers; we didn’t know it our- 
selves till half an hour before starting.” 

It all happened so suddenly that almost 
before they realized it they were carriaged. 


An Unexpected Meeting 135 

bag and baggage, and rolling on toward 
home. 

“Carol,” Mrs. Gifford exclaimed, “Carol 
Rutherford, you’ve been ill!” 

“No indeed, I have not been ill. I ac- 
quired an incurable health habit long ago.” 

“Then you have been lonely, or bored, or 
both lonely and bored.” 

“Dear me! What a morbid imagination 
you have! I have been neither lonely nor 
bored.” 

“How does the old man look?” questioned 
Lynn, settling himself back against the 
cushions with a congratulatory air. 

“Fine and foxy,” said Carol, adopting 
the parlance which seemed to suit his mood. 

“All I need to make me as good as the 
best of ’em is a whiff or two of this good 
country air and a frolic with the kid.” 

“You had a caller last evening, I under- 
stand,” said Mrs. Gifford. Carol nodded. 

“Isn’t he the biggest dear you ever met?” 

“Then you knew he was coming?” 

“Not in time to intercept him. We were 
so sorry to have missed him. Lynn got up 
yesterday morning with a wretched head- 
ache and we thought it prudent to wait, 
but he felt much better this morning, and 
we hurried away.” 

Carol was anxious to hear their hospi- 


The Vital Touch 


136 

tal experiences, which Janey began, and the 
conversation was resumed after five o’clock 
dinner, when they all sat together in the 
twilight. 

‘‘And now,” said Janey, taking a long 
breath in conclusion of a long story, “tell 
me all about yourself, and about Elizabeth 
Waring, Father Vignon and Alois.” 

“Elizabeth is just as you knew her ten 
years ago.” 

“How interesting!” 

“Just as thin and long and narrow.” 

“How romantic!” 

“And talks about just the same things.” 

“Mercy on me!” . 

“Father Vignon’s every word and action 
appear to bear the genuine stamp of good- 
ness,” she went on methodically. 

“And Alois?” asked Janey quickly. 

“Is handsome and debonnaire,” she an- 
swered simply. 

“Isn’t he though? Dear Carol, the com- 
ing of that young man was the one event that 
reconciled me to the fact that you were so 
hopelessly alone.” 

A throb of pain ran through Carol, and 
she closed her eyes as if to shut out a vision. 

“Yes,” said Lynn, who was about to leave 
the room, “I’m glad A1 came. As what’s 


An Unexpected Meeting 137 

his name says, ‘this place is heaven for cli- 
mate but it’s hell for company.’ ” 

“Think of having such brothers,” Janey 
continued, “and the ocean bet^veen you. 
Poor Hortense! but go on, Carol, and tell 
me all about your impressions of Alois.” 

Carol’s pulse quickened and a crimson 
flush spread over her face, which happily 
the deepening twilight screened from view. 
Mrs. Gifford waited a moment expectantly, 
and as there was no response, she thought 
how absurd it was to expect a girl in love 
to speak unreservedly about it, so added 
hastily, 

“Our plans have been dreadfully frus- 
trated, but we shall still have a couple of 
weeks, and now that you have grown up 
with the place and know it so well, you 
must pilot us. I hope to persuade the 
Churchills to remain a little longer.” 

“I am really very sorry to disturb your 
plans, but I have stayed as long as I can. 
I must go home to-morrow,” said Carol 
emphatically. 

“You don’t mean it, Carol. You can’t 
mean that. Surely you won’t do anything 
so disappointing. Alois is coming, and 
Lynn and I had hoped so trustfully that 
you two might grow very fond of each 


138 The Vital Touch 

other,” said Mrs. Gifford with childish 
truthfulness. 

Carol was silent. 

“You don’t mean it?” said Janey coax- 
ingly. 

“Yes, I mean it.” 

“But Alois is coming.” There was a 
pause, and Janey, in her impetuous curios- 
ity, burst out, 

“Is it possible that even that would not 
induce you to stay?” 

It seemed to Carol that her voice sounded 
like a distant echo as she replied, 

“It is quite certain that would not induce 
me to stay an hour.” 

Janey drew back in her chair entirely 
baffled. Neither spoke, but the embarrass- 
ment was relieved by Lynn’s cheery en- 
trance. As usual, he began to talk and 
talked incessantly. But the predicament 
was unendurable to Carol, who feared that 
the conversation regarding Alois might be 
resumed and she recoiled from the very 
thought. While conscious of her own 
cowardice in retreating before a circum- 
stance which must be her inevitable fate to 
meet, yet she feared being betrayed into a 
suspicious situation which would, of course, 
be inexplicable. She took the first oppor- 
tunity to go to her room. She sank heavily 


139 


'An Unexpected Meeting 

into the chair in which she had spent the 
previous night and pressed her hands 
firmly against her hot face. She was strug- 
gling to maintain the calm that had come to 
her with the birth of the morning, but 
which was in danger of being swept away 
by the flood of resurgent memories that 
rushed upon her, — her humiliation, her ir- 
retrievable error, her disappointment, her 
lost ideal. She passed her hands over her 
eyes again and again as if to scatter her 
thoughts, and her effort was not without 
its reward. She soon became quiet and as 
she sat in the darkness, she prayed. 

‘‘Let’s have a light, husband,” said Mrs. 
Gifford after Carol had gone, “and draw 
your chair up closer to mine. I want to tell 
you something.” 

Lynn did as requested. “Well?” he 
asked. 

“I’ve learned something.” 

“By jolly, I’m glad of that!” 

“I’ve found out that Carol doesn’t give 
two straws for Alois Vignon.” 

“The devil you have — that is — excuse me, 
sweetheart, I mean who told you so?” 

“aS/z^ did. And she’s going home to- 
morrow afternoon.” 

“What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing at all, I think, only that south- 


140 The Vital Touch 

ern scheme is taking up her attention to 
the exclusion of everybody and everything. 
I am completely nonplussed. That’s what 
comes from taking things for granted. 
Who told you that he is in love with her?” 

‘‘He did.” 

“I don’t believe it.” 

“Oh, but he is! he has been over head 
and ears in love with her for a year — since 
their very first meeting. The night you 
came to the hospital he was sitting beside 
my bed and he said — I remember his very 
words — he said, ‘Giff, I should attempt the 
labors of Hercules for Miss Rutherford.’ 
‘Take it easy! take it easy!’ said I, like the 
blatant ass that I am. ‘She is yours for the 
asking.’ ” 

“What did he say?” 

“Never a word. That man is as hard hit 
as Goliath, and he is — ” 

“He is what?” 

“He is caught up in a passion that in- 
volves a consequence. He will never go 
back to college the same fellow. I’ve been 
trying for a long time to draw him out of 
It, but he has grasped the metal with his 
own hands. I’d like to tell Carol one thing 
— fellows like Vignon can’t be found every 
day — he’s clean through and through. Her 
going in this way is a little discouraging 


An Unexpected Meeting 141 

and not a little embarrassing. We would 
better pack up and go with her. Besides, 
it’s getting awfully cold here.” 

“No, we will not. You will gain strength 
far more quickly here than in town. Just 
so sure as we go back, Mr. Wright will find 
a hundred and one excuses to get you down 
to the office. Of course Alois will not care 
to come now, and we must write him some 
excuse or other. Oh, I could shriek from 
sheer disappointment! what on earth shall 
we tell him?” 

“For my part, I shall make no excuse 
whatever. I planned this outing for the 
sole purpose of bringing them together. I 
have tried it several times before; in fact, 
I have been trying for two years, but all to 
no purpose. I’ve played a losing game and 
it’s up to him now. Let him try his own 
hand, win or lose, it’s no affair of mine.” 


CHAPTER XV 


HOME AGAIN 

A feeling of relief mingled with a kind 
of melancholy pleasure came to Carol on 
her return home. Although she had never 
before entered it with such depressed spir- 
its, yet it never looked more inviting, and 
she felt it was the one place in the world 
that could bring her complete calm. It 
had always been Miss Rutherford’s en- 
deavor to make her niece’s home life an 
ideal one, so far as it was possible without 
parental ministration, and as usual Carol 
was greeted with many pretty demonstra- 
tions of delight. 

It was sweet to rest here if only for a 
little while, till aim and hope should be 
restored and her feeling of responsibility 
to the world renewed. It seemed to her 
that a band of sorcerers which had been 
hovering about her awaiting an opportune 
moment for obsession, had dispersed, and 
that she was now surrounded by a pure, 
142 


Home Again 


143 


celestial aura. She endeavored to avert all 
suspicion of her unhappiness. While she 
knew full well that a world of tenderness 
and sympathy would attend the acknowl- 
edgment of her error, she deferred it from 
day to day, fearing to disturb the harmony 
which she felt ought to attend her Aunt’s 
kindly efforts. 

Thus a week went by in a kind of languid 
complacancy never before experienced by 
Carol and not wholly realized. 

There was an unusual pallor in her face 
and her eyes lacked the natural lustre. 
Miss Rutherford had also noticed a ten- 
dency on her niece’s part to avoid the com- 
pany of their friends. 

‘‘You are not so well as usual this 
autumn, I believe,” said her aunt, as they 
sat together one evening. 

“Yes, Aunt Helen, I am quite well, but 
not so — a trifle more serious is what I want 
to say.” 

“And what makes you so serious is what 
I want to know.” 

“A trouble I have brought upon myself,” 
she answered, avoiding her Aunt’s look. 
“I have plucked a passion-flower with poi- 
soned petals.” 

“What is it, dear? You keep no secrets 
from me.” 


144 


The Vital Touch 


“Oh, Aunt Helen, you will blush for very 
shame when I tell you how imprudently I 
have acted, how grievously at fault I am.” 

A spasm of dread seized her, rendering 
her words almost inarticulate. Had she 
not been the tempter in the affair with this 
young man? She had put a blot upon his 
spiritual life and now she was about to 
place a stigma on his fair name. What 
right had she to do so? His life was con- 
secrated to the Catholic Church. How 
would the world receive the knowledge 
that his heart was sealed from a realization 
of the sanctity of his vows? 

Miss Rutherford looked steadfastly at 
her niece, attempting to comprehend her 
words which ended in a faint whisper. An 
expression of pain came over her pale face, 
and she looked so unlike herself that Miss 
Rutherford hastened to her, crying in a 
voice full of alarm, 

“Carol! Oh Carol! what is it? Some 
frightful change is coming over you. Speak 
to me.” 

“I am tired. I think that’s all,” she an- 
swered, pushing her aunt gently back into 
the chair. Then, as if immediately con- 
scious of an unkind action, she dropped on 
her knees and folding her arms about her 
said, 


Home Again 14.5 

“I didn’t realize it was so hard to make 
a confession.” 

“Dearest child,” returned her Aunt, “I 
will listen to none of it. Goodness, how 
you tremble! I know you better than you 
know yourself. Your childish behavior 
often cost you days of misery. 

“But this is — ” 

^‘Hush,” she commanded. “I forbid you 
to agitate yourself in any such way. I don’t 
care what it is. I believe in you implicitly 
and blame myself for not having checked 
your hypersensitiveness before it could have 
brought you to this degree of emotion. I 
remember how, when a little girl, your in- 
tense sympathy would compel me to do all 
manner of foolish things — to make delect- 
able dishes for dog dinners and cosy cush- 
ions for cat comfort.” 

“But sympathy is one thing and — ” 

“And something else is different isn’t it,” 
interrupted Miss Rutherford. She twined 
her arms lovingly about the girl and drew 
her to her breast while she rocked, singing 
a pretty lullaby. 

“Aunty, please don’t, you’re choking me 
quite.” 

“Don’t interfere with me. I’m taking 
drastic measures to cure an inordinately 
developed conscience.” 


146 


The Vital Touch 


“Please, Aunty, stop. Oh, don’t!” But 
despite her protests. Miss Rutherford 
wheedled and rocked, clinging to her child 
as when she was a baby. 

“It’s a long time since we have had a 
love-feast,” said she. “I wonder if I shall 
ever have to share you with another. He 
would have to be eligible to sainthood to 
deserve my priceless one.” 

“You foolish, doting Aunty. Perhaps 
your price will fall considerably by the 
time you have had an offer.” 

Carol slept peacefully that night, with 
never a dream of greater struggles yet to 
come. 


CHAPTER XVI 


A STRUGGLE 

The next morning the house-maid 
brushed out of the mail box, with one 
sweep of her broad hand, half Si dozen let- 
ters all addressed to Carol. She examined 
them curiously as she moved slowly along, 
wondering which letter might be from ‘^the 
one.” 

‘‘Surely such a fine young lady must have 
a good many beaux to her string. Few men 
call, and so I guess her admirers must all 
live out of town. I wonder!” she ex- 
claimed, closing one eye and holding up an 
envelope with singularly legible letters, be- 
tween the other eye and the light. She had 
not had much experience with hand writ- 
ing, but after looking the letters over for 
the third time, she decided to, place that 
one on top of the pile in order to decoy 
the receiver into a display of regard. But 
her plan failed to develop any form of ro- 
mance, as the recipient’s eyes rested on the 
ii47 


148 


The Vital Touch 


superscription for a moment, and then she 
whirled it aside. The maid’s countenance 
fell as she turned away. 

Glancing hurriedly over the bunch, 
Carol’s head drooped low over a strangely- 
beautiful handwriting, broad, significant, 
characteristic, and her face was flushed, 
though calm, when she raised her eyes from 
the paper. 

Her onward march through life had 
been along the line of self-control, and al- 
though she had not been able to overstep all 
obstacles, she once more determined to 
keep within the vantage ground. She laid 
the letter upon the desk with enforced delib- 
eration and read the others attentively, set- 
ting aside each in its turn. Then with set 
lips, she prepared to read unflinchingly, 
the first words ever written to her by Alois 
Vignon : 

^'Dear Miss Rutherford : 

To express my regret at the turn affairs 
have taken at Lynnwood, would be to re- 
mind you of something you must have felt 
many times ere this. 

Since it has been my misfortune to fail 
through the miscarriage of others’ plans, to 
meet you again, I beg the privilege of your 
hospitality for a brief hour at such time as 


A Struggle 


149 


you may grant it. I feel that I may, with- 
out presumption, expect you to receive my 
request graciously, and trusting you may 
honor me at an early day, I am. 

Yours to command, 

Alois Vignon.” 

There was no need to read it a second 
time. The words were rooted in her mind; 
no need to reflect over the answer. The op- 
portunity she had longed for, against the 
consent of her spirit — singular antithesis of 
a woman’s heart! — the opportunity of 
bringing this aflPair to a close, had come. 
They had both been guilty of a dereliction 
of principle, he willfully, she unwittingly, 
and any further tolerance would mean the 
ultimate loss of respect for each other. She 
felt like the enchantress Circe, with a 
wicked power to charm. Turning to her 
desk she wrote : 

Vignon : 

My time, extending into the indefinite 
future, will be devoted to a work which I 
deem all important. I rely upon your 
kindness, therefore, to assist, by making no 
demand whatever upon my attention. 

I thank you for your courtesy, and trust 
you may realize by these brief v/ords that 


150 The Vital Touch 

my request is sincere and my answer con- 
clusive. 

Hastily, 

Carol C. Rutherford.” 

The act that fails to relieve the heart, lifts 
no burden from the mind. As the gloomy 
procession of days passed, the necessity of 
creating a fuller life urged itself upon 
Carol, and little by little her plans grew. 

Miss Rutherford had rigidly opposed a 
missionary career for her niece, and Carol 
had refrained from any mention of it since 
her return. But her determination was re- 
solute, and she meant that no influence 
should be puissant enough to alter it. She 
suspected that her Aunt had also avoided 
talking about the matter, and she began to 
dread more and more the definite action. 
It happened, however, that a casual remark 
led them unexpectedly to the subject: 

‘What a lot of letters!” said Miss Ruther- 
ford one morning as Carol came in with 
unusually large mail. “It seems to me that 
your correspondence daily increases.” 

“It necessarily does. You know. Aunty, 
there is a tremendous amount of prelim- 
inary work connected with the Negro set- 
tlement proposition.” 


A Struggle 15 1 

“And you still mean to pursue that 
course?’^ 

“Oh yes. There is no means of retreat 
now,” she answered with a little laugh 
which was meant to introduce a pleasantry. 

But Miss Rutherford was very serious. 

“You will never do it with my consent. 
But then I have not been consulted.” 

“No, Aunt Helen, I have not asked your 
consent because I must not allow your 
opinion to influence me one way or the 
other. If there had been any doubt in my 
mind as to the advisability of the undertak- 
ing I should have come to you. I value 
your consent beyond price but this is the 
call of duty and I must respond.” 

“The world is full of women careering 
about in the guise of charity, leaving their 
own homes vacant of the same commodity. 
I don’t mean to insinuate that you are one 
of these. I couldn’t possibly accuse you of 
any other motive than a sincere one, but 
your case is parallel with theirs insomuch 
as you mistake your duty completely.” 

“I am not neglecting my duty. You 
don’t need me here.” 

“Oh, child, child! have you never needed 
me? Have we two grown so far away from 
each other?” 

“Separation doesn’t destroy love, Aunty 


152 


The Vital Touch 


dear, it increases it. Perhaps I am mistak- 
ing a false duty for a true one. The best I 
can do is to trust my intuitions and yield 
myself to the spirit that prompts me. You 
did one of the divinest acts of charity when 
you took me out of the arms of a dying 
mother. And while I am profoundly grate- 
ful to you, I am far more so to a beneficent 
Providence that puts such deeds into human 
hearts and for which I offer my poor serv- 
ices in return. I ask you to trust me confi- 
dently. I am obeying an authoritative voice 
and I have faith that it will not lead me 
astray. I realize how bitterly I have dis- 
appointed you ; how I have thwarted your 
plans and have repeatedly displeased you, 
but oh! I have made such an utter failure 
of my life that I yearn for deliverance from 
the old self, for some power to start the 
rusty springs of action, for some work that 
will carry me beyond the outworn paths to 
a new field. I can see no vision now but a 
great wall which seems to lengthen out with 
the span of life like a hideous tombstone. 
But I am going to try to redeem myself. I 
am going to — ’’ 

“Hush, hush, my child!’’ said Miss 
Rutherford, rising. “I can’t endure this 
and I am the unhappy cause of it all. I 
have persistently interfered with your plans 



Almost magnetized by dread, she gazed at her name written 
in practiced, elegant characters. 


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A Struggle 


I S3 


instead of giving an attentive ear and will- 
ing assistance. I have most inconsiderately 
lost sight of the fact that even giant strength 
may weaken if sufficient weight is put upon 
it, and this opposition to my will has 
worked you into a morbid state of mind 
which is alarming in its effect. From this 
hour, Carol, I want you to feel free to 
shape your life after whatever fashion you 
may choose. I have implicit confidence 
that it cannot fail to be heroic.’^ 

The young woman’s eyes spoke a volume 
of gratitude but she attempted no verbal 
response. 

When alone, Carol again took up the 
package of letters and looked them over 
rather vacantly. Among them was one she 
little dreamed of receiving. Almost mag- 
netized by dread she gazed at her name 
written in practiced, elegant characters. 
Not a tremor passed over her; every nerve 
became tense. As she finished reading the 
contents her eyes flashed with indignation, 
and crushing the paper within her hand, 
she arose, drew herself up to her full stat- 
ure, as though prompted by the very spirit 
of defiance, and exclaimed: “This is little 
less than an insult. I have brought it upon 
myself, but it shall be the last, I shall cause 
it to be the last, if it kills me. I will tol- 


154 


The Vital Touch 


erate no more dissembling from the ranks 
of the Catholic priesthood.” Without pre- 
meditation she sat and wrote: 

*^Mr, Vignon : 

Your expression of the brief moments 
we have spent in each other’s company, is 
more picturesque than warranted, and more 
true, perhaps, than becoming to either of us. 
I hoped you would understand by my for- 
mer note that my time and attention are 
quite taken up with other affairs, and I re- 
gret being now obliged to add that any fur- 
ther communication will be regarded as an 
importunity. 

Carol C. Rutherford.” 

The brief outburst of passion was over. 
All indignation shrank timidly out of her 
face. Her head drooped for a moment on 
her breast and then her perfect form bent 
over the writing table like a graceful 
branch shattered by a storm. The letter 
lay in her lap ready to post and the words 
burned into her heart. They were the 
severest words she had ever addressed to 
anyone and they shook every fiber of her 
tender nature, making each pulsation one 
of pain. 


CHAPTER XVII 


ALOIS 

It was half after six in the evening. Men 
and women relieved from the various pur- 
suits and avocations of the day, were hur- 
rying along the streets of Chicago bent 
upon reaching their respective habitations 
with all possible expediency. The air was 
crisp and bracing. The wind ran westerly 
on a high career, driving some of the pedes- 
trians before it as it went, compelling others 
to relax their pace, and assuming the right 
of way in a very domineering fashion. 

Through this whirl of life Father Vignon 
walked, though far less rapidly than the 
hurrying majority. He glanced at each 
passer-by in the hope that, by an unexpected 
turn in the wheel of chance, he might meet 
the person he had come to the city to see. 
As he advanced toward a large stone struc- 
ture on Belden Avenue, he looked search- 
ingly at an apartment on the second floor, 
but was unable to determine whether it was 
iSS 


1^6 


The Vital Touch 


dimly lighted from within, or whether the 
illuminations from the street had given it 
that appearance. 

As he reached his destination, the door 
of the adjoining suite opened and a strain 
of soft and tender music floated out. He 
paused almost unconsciously within the 
shelter of the vestibule to listen. Sudden 
laughter filled the air, and a dozen gaily 
dressed girls ran out, like so many rose-buds 
bursting into life. The sight pleased him 
well. There was something in the hilarity 
of youth that infused itself into his spirits, 
and in his simplicity of heart, his real de- 
light in the gayety of child-life, he looked 
smilingly on, till the merry-makers were 
conveyed away one by one. 

He had not fully expected that his 
brother would be awaiting him; neverthe- 
less, he was disappointed upon entering his 
apartment to find it dark and lonely. Not 
a single appointment of the room but was 
fixed in his mind. A stray gleam from the 
street fell across the floor. A breeze, 
sweeping in through a partly open window, 
played among the leaves of a book which 
lay upon the table. On the floor, fluttering 
against the glass door of a bookcase were 
some pages of a newspaper. Making a 
light, he first gathered up the scattered 


Alois 


157 


leaves to ascertain the date of the issue. 
Finding it was a day old, he laid it aside 
with some misgivings and after closing the 
window went into an adjoining room. He 
felt a slight apprehension in consequence of 
the possibility that word concerning his in- 
tention to come had not preceded his ar- 
rival. However, after bathing, he donned 
his cassock, added a few necessaries to his 
comfort, went back into the library and 
again took up the newspaper. 

The room was large and elegantly fur- 
nished in modern style. Tiers of bookcases 
lined every available space, crowding out 
of their proper corners several pieces of 
richly carved furniture, whose rare beauty 
like that of a pretentious belle, was too 
showy to be altogether admirable. The 
dull green upper walls were enlivened with 
several good pictures and clever sketches. 
On each side of a large mahogany table was 
a leather chair, roomy and comfortable, in 
one of which Father Vignon was sitting. 
A pedestal supporting an exquisite marble 
figure stood in the deep bay window, re- 
lieved by no other back-ground than the or- 
dinary dark window shades common to 
homes of all fashion. Everything was sug- 
gestive of culture, but there was a noticeable 


The Vital Touch 


158 

lack of the many little embellishments so 
dear to the feminine fancy. 

Separated from this room by a narrow 
hall, were two bed chambers furnished very 
nearly alike. On the walls of one of these 
hung a crucifix and several devotional pic- 
tures ; the walls of the other room were dec- 
orated with photographs, college mementos 
and one or two etchings. 

The eyes of the priest moved slowly from 
column to column, resting on a paragraph 
here and there which he read with indiffer- 
ent interest. 

After some time, a quick footstep on the 
stairs caused him to turn his face expectantly 
toward the door. There was a hurried 
manipulation of the key and Alois entered. 
He was a picture of robust manhood. His 
complexion was naturally dark and bril- 
liant, and the brisk wind had imparted to it 
a ruddy glow. He hastened to meet Father 
Vignon, smiling a warm welcome. The 
priest greeted him in French, but he made 
no response save a hearty handclasp, laying 
his other hand upon his brother’s right 
shoulder at the same time, which was Alois’ 
customary mode of saluting him. The 
priest returned the smile. Never did a 
mother take a greater pride in the lusty 
manhood of her son, than did Father Vig- 


Alois 


IS9 

non in his brother, whom he cherished as 
part of his own being. 

The two men were alike in form and feat- 
ure, but the cares of life had wrought 
changes in the priest, making the resem- 
blance less distinct than had been designed 
by the hand of Nature. The alert, self-as- 
sertive poise of youth had settled into pa- 
tient repose. Serious thought had spread its 
delicate traces over his clear, dark face, and 
the encroaching years, had, by stealthy de- 
grees changed the lambent light of counte- 
nance into grave earnestness. 

The younger man re-crossed the room, 
and taking off his heavy coat as he walked, 
asked, 

“Have you been to dinner, Maurice?” 

“I ate on the train.” 

He was back in a minute. “On the train 
you say? Then you have just come to 
town?” said he, wheeling his chair into con- 
venient position. 

“Yes,” replied Father Vignon, with slight 
hesitancy, “and I came especially to see 
you.” 

Alois gave a quick, questioning look at 
his brother and asked, 

“Has anything unusual happened?” 

The priest laughed dryly. “I thought so, 


i6o The Vital Touch 

but upon my word I believe I was mis- 
taken.” 

He looked fixedly into the handsome face 
before him and seeing that no cloud ob- 
scured its brightness, added with a touch of 
embarrassment, and hurriedly as if to get 
rid of the thought: 

“The truth is, Alois, I fancied you were 
despondent and the thought, having taken 
root, grew prodigiously. When you came 
to St. Xavier Missions two weeks ago I 
thought my suspicions were confirmed.” 

They were looking directly at each other. 
A shade swept over the younger man’s face, 
betraying in a moment the secret of his 
heart. 

“I am sorry,” he said with sudden re- 
serve, “that you have been distressed on my 
account. It is entirely uncalled for.” 

Disregarding the slight irony. Father 
Vignon said anxiously, 

“A moment ago I hoped I was mistaken, 
but there is something on your mind. I felt 
impelled to come to you.” 

There was a brief silence and then the 
priest again spoke: 

“What is the meaning, brother, of this 
letter concerning your intention to go to 
France?” 


Alois 


i6i 


“Is it so very alarming? I have gone to 
France before. Say it is caprice.” 

“But is it your caprice?” 

“Maurice, I wonder if a suitable time 
will ever come for you to throw off this bur- 
den of responsibility concerning me! You 
would treat me as a dependent if I were as 
old as Methuselah. What if I am despond- 
ent? Don’t you think I am able to resist 
it?” 

“Then you don’t deny it?” 

“Now don’t question me, please don’t.” 

“I should like you to answer my question, 
Alois. Are you not dispirited?” 

“I can’t say that I am in exuberant spir- 
its,” Alois returned good naturedly. 

“Then why not tell me what is troubling 
you?” 

“Because it is too delicate a matter for dis- 
cussion. Don’t bother about it. It’s noth- 
ing you can help.” 

“It would be impossible for me to over- 
come my solicitude,” said Father Vignon 
with finality. 

Alois arose and walked up and down the 
room, the priest following him with his 
eyes. He hesitated to urge the matter 
against his brother’s opposition, but his de- 
termination to know the whole truth had 
now become resolute. 


The Vital Touch 


162 

for relieving myself of responsibility 
concerning you, honor, as well as nature, in- 
vests me with the right which time nor 
place can ever annul. Heaven knows, Alois, 
my devotion and affection alone entitle me 
to know the secrets of your inmost soul.” 

“Don’t become sentimental, Maurice, it is 
intolerable,” said the young man, betraying 
impatience for the first time. 

Father Vignon never flinched. He felt 
the justice of his brother’s protest, and his 
own conscience militated against the aggres- 
sion, yet his mind teemed with misgivings of 
all kinds. The fact that his secret was im- 
portant enough to guard with sedulous care, 
augmented the priest’s anxiety beyond en- 
durance. 

“I don’t urge you to speak against your 
will, it would be no relief to do so; but in- 
deed, Alois, it would be gratifying to me to 
know that the confidence you gave me in 
earlier life, and the sympathy I gave you in 
return, had left sufficient impression to free 
you from all restraint.” 

“Why can’t you attribute my restraint to 
a desire to save you needless anxiety?” Alois 
returned with a patronage that provoked 
Father Vignon into clinching the argument 
with the retort, 

“Because it is not true.” 



“Why can’t you attribute my restraint to a desire to save you 
needless anxiety ? ” Alois returned with a patronage that 
provoked Father Vignon into clinching the argument with the 
retort, 

“Because it is not true.” 



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Alois 


163 

They exchanged glances. There was a 
look of appeal in the priest’s eyes that had 
its effect on the other. Alois softened. 

^‘Nevertheless, Maurice,” he answered 
calmly, reseating himself as he spoke, “I 
tell you very sincerely that I have no secret 
in the world which I would not reveal to 
you unhesitatingly if doing so would help 
either of us. I have no desire to be enig- 
matical, I am sure, but to acquaint you with 
the cause of my — of my despondency as 
you term it, would not relieve your sus- 
pense.” 

“Suspense is only bodily torture, while 
suspicion inhabits the mind and incrimin- 
ates alike the accused and the accuser. To 
impute to you some venial fault of which 
you are not guilty would be a great misfor- 
tune, while the privilege of absolving you 
of a heinous sin, truly repented of, would 
invoke Divine favor on both of us. If I 
knew you less intimately, I should say the 
evidence pointed to the same old story — a 
woman in the case.” 

Alois met his gaze with frank acceptance 
and answered quietly, 

“There is a woman in the case.” 

“My God, Alois!” cried the priest, fall- 
ing back into the chair as if stunned by a 
blow. 


164 


The Vital Touch 


“No, no, no,” interrupted the young man 
hastily and with emphasis of gesture. “It 
is not what you think. I am not entertain- 
ing a clandestine relation with any woman; 
I have no surreptitious regard for one — ” 

“Then it is a love affair?” gasped Father 
Vignon. 

“Yes, it is a love affair.” 

“You are not treating lightly your 
mother’s vow, I hope.” 

“Maurice, that remark is cruel. You 
might have spared me. My young life was 
shadowed by the fear that my faith was not 
strong enough to sustain my mother’s trust, 
and the disentanglement from that fear was 
torture; but the release came at last. 
Mother’s voiceless revocation came with my 
larger conception of God and life and love.” 

“What do you mean by your larger con- 
ception of God and life and love?” 

The young man disregarded the question. 

“The heart has its rights,” he continued, 
“and to put aside its rights is to weaken the 
powers of the soul. That I am bound in- 
violably to the priesthood by mother’s vow, 
is superstition — certainly it is not conscion- 
able. This conviction is the result of years 
of prayer and meditation.” 

“An indifferent servant would be an of- 


Alois 165 

fense to Deity,” said Father Vignon after a 
short abstraction. 

“I know that you have long and patiently 
cherished the hope that we two should be 
affiliated in that way — that the scheme of 
life should culminate in that end,” answered 
Alois. ^‘At first I thought it probable that I 
should be a priest. You took it for granted, 
and until my novitiate at Rome was checked, 
I never really questioned it seriously. Af- 
ter that deferment I seemed to exist without 
a definite purpose in life or without paying 
much attention to consequences. Then an 
awakening came and I was transformed, 
even as the chrysalis unfolds itself into a 
new state. It was a life full of hope, full of 
possibilities, full of eager purpose, full of 
love and desire and everything life should 
be. I didn’t seek that great luminary. Its 
light came to me as naturally as the dawn 
spreads over a sleeping world, revealing a 
secret no less potent, and having found it — ” 

“Well, having found it?” 

The young man was silent. 

“You have been repulsed?” 

“Yes.” 

“By her?” 

“By her.” 

“By her word of mouth?” asked Father 
Vignon incredulously. 


The Vital Touch 


1 66 

“No, not quite. It is not a thing to be 
declared from the housetops, and the truth 
is, I have never spent a minute alone with 
her in my life.” 

Father Vignon stared at his brother as if 
he doubted the evidence of his senses. 
“Well, go on, Alois,” he said in a slightly 
nervous voice, “go on; tell me all.” 

“There is little else. The same old story 
as you suggest. We met and we loved.” 

“If you have never spoken to her about 
it how did you know she loved?” 

“How do you know there is a heaven?” 
Alois answered softly. “I knew she loved 
by the same cognitive power of understand- 
ing,” said he. 

“Who is the lady?” asked Father Vignon 
with slight hesitation. 

“Miss Carol Rutherford.” 

At the mention of that name, the image of 
the young woman with the radiant face and 
sweet, expressive eyes , standing near an 
open hearth, sprang from the dim back- 
ground of the priest’s memory, and the pic- 
ture included his own presence on the op- 
posite side, holding the photograph of his 
brother. It was like a sudden change of 
perspective into detail. The thought of the 
physical change that had come over her re- 
curred to him, her sudden and unaccount- 


Alois 


167 

able reserve, her eager desire to hear about 
his missionary work. Then, with a flash of 
conjecture, the whole truth was revealed. 
He started out of his chair, but again fell 
back as if stupefied by his own obtuseness. 
^‘Good heavens!” he said at length, meeting 
his brother’s surprised eyes, “this is all my 
fault.” 

It was now Alois’ turn to gaze and won- 
der, and he did so with an expression which 
plainly indicated that he feared the priest 
had been suddenly bereft of his senses. 

“You say she has rejected you?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“It is my fault,” he repeated after a mo- 
ment’s reflection. “It happened the even- 
ing I stopped of! at Lynnwood to see the 
Giffords. They had not arrived, you will 
perhaps remember. I spent the hour with 
Miss Rutherford. My thoughts winged 
their way to you and there they hovered. I 
spoke unreservedly of you. I don’t know 
why I did; perhaps because I struck a re- 
sponsive chord in her heart. I talked of our 
life-long companionship, the realization of 
my hopes in you, our mutual relations, and 
I told her that you, too, had consecrated 
yourself to Christ’s service, which would 
still more completely blend our lives. I 
told her that without you I could no longer 


The Vital Touch 


1 68 

carry on my work as I should wish to. It 
is plain to me now. The words pierced her 
heart like an arrow, but it never occurred 
to me until this hour that I had occasioned 
the change that came upon her as I spoke. 
I realize how a woman of her generous na- 
ture would be affected by such an unquali- 
fied statement of affairs.’’ 

Father Vignon stopped talking and 
looked at his brother with the undisguised 
purpose of studying the effect of his narra- 
tion. 

At last Alois understood the meaning of 
Carol’s words : ^‘Your expression of the brief 
moments we have spent in each other’s com- 
pany is more picturesque than warranted 
and more true than becoming.” 

^‘I think you have the key to the situa- 
tion,” he said with a ring of fatality in his 
voice. There was something so suggestive 
of resignation in his attitude, so entirely 
submissive, that it hurt the priest more than 
the sharp sting of words could possibly do. 

That Miss Rutherford would never take 
away the support so necessary to Father 
Vignon was certain. As for Alois, he had 
been so entirely lifted out of his old envi- 
ronment, that the pathos of leaving his 
brother had been lost sight of. It was true 
he had begun to need him, and the need 


(Hois 


169 


would grow more pressing each year. But 
Father Vignon, with never a thought of 
himself continued: 

“And as my judgment in that case was 
entirely consumed by confidence, I shall en- 
deavor by a personal appeal to bring about 
a reconciliation.’’ 

“With or without my consent, I suppose,” 
interposed the other, calmly. 

“Yes, certainly,” he replied conclusively. 

“Maurice, you have provoked this ac- 
knowledgment out of me — you have ex- 
torted it, really, but I want you to under- 
stand that any action you may take concern- 
ing it will be in opposition to my wishes.” 

The priest’s face flushed a little as he re- 
plied, 

“You admit your own efforts have been 
ineffectual.” 

“They have, certainly, but I object to 
having the affair treated vicariously.” 

“What do you propose to do about it?” 
asked Father Vignon after some minutes. 

“I can’t see that anything can be done.” 

“I should not annoy you with my inter- 
ference had I not unwittingly drawn you 
into this. Were it your own doing, I should 
deem it a matter of self extrication. Under 
the circumstances, I intend to ask the lady’s 


170 


The Vital Touch 


permission to see her and endeavor to clear 
up my mistake.” 

“She will decline to see you.” 

“Then in anticipation of that event I shall 
resort to finesse. She is interested in Negro 
missions, and will naturally think I have 
something to say concerning them.” 

“And you are willing to impose that de- 
ception upon her?” 

“Perfectly.” 

“I am surprised, Maurice.” 

“I will not allow you to remain here 
brooding over a trouble which I have 
brought to you, if there is a remedy.” 

“I thought you understood that I will not 
be here.” 

“Are you going to see Hortense?” 

“Of course I shall see Hortense.” 

“Then you intend to resign your position 
in the college?” 

“Yes ; if there was no one to take my place, 
I should consider it my duty to remain. As 
it can be given to someone who will doubt- 
less fill it quite as acceptably — perhaps 
someone who needs the position — I shall 
have no scruples.” 

Father Vignon shook his head. “You 
would better reconsider,” he advised. A 
heavy laugh fell through Alois’ lips. 

“You think Paris, so easy of access to 


Alois 


171 

every forbidden folly, is a dangerous plunge 
for me to make at present.” 

He had voiced the priest’s thoughts 
exactly. 

‘‘Well never fear. My life is charmed 
against moral disaster, and while it is not at 
all probable that I shall ever attain the 
standard of perfect rectitude, yet this expe- 
rience shall safe-guard my conduct. She 
can never be lost to me. She is mine now as 
she was mine the first moment we met in 
mutual consent. We were as inevitably 
united then as we shall be by the most im- 
posing ceremony, and I feel that she, too, 
has recognized that.” 

“The ‘ceremony’ is a sacrament, remem- 
ber that, Alois.” 

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten that, nor do I 
mean to disparage it. Far from it. Every 
tenet of our holy religion is as sacred to me 
as to you.” 

“You may not realize what your words 
imply. If only you could be sure it is not 
the tempter’s snare.” 

“Have you ever doubted your call to the 
priesthood, Maurice?” 

“No, Alois, no, as God is my judge.” 

“Then why did you — did we leave 
Rome?” 

“Because there was a doubt in my mind as 


172 


The Vital Touch 


to whether or not it was right for you to be 
a priest,” answered Father Vignon. 

“Ah!” sighed the young man as if in re- 
lief. “Then why do you not encourage me 
to live up to my own convictions?” he 
added. 

“Because this is most extraordinary.” 

“It is extraordinary. I should willingly 
give the rest of my life for the sheer bliss 
of—” 

“Yes, yes, Alois,” the priest interrupted, 
shifting his position uneasily, “but are you 
not offering your sacrifice upon a strange 
altar? She is not of your religion.” 

“We are united in those principles which 
are the base of all true faith. There is 
something beautiful in her and that some- 
thing is religion. I know she possesses that 
which would call out the best in me. She 
is a better and more perfect expression of 
myself.” 

“That is what they all say,” answered the 
priest shortly. 

“Perhaps they do, but I doubt if the or- 
dinary quality will endure among men after 
their ideal has passed out of their lives. If 
I shall never see Miss Rutherford again, the 
memory of her goodness will be my saving 
grace.” 

The priest yielded. 


Alois 


173 


am sorry for my unfortunate interfer- 
ence. My happiness depends upon yours. 
I beg your permission to correct the mis- 
take.” 

“No, Maurice, every avenue of approach 
has been closed against me. You, also, will 
find her inexorable. I shall not attach any 
blame to you and even if you had premedi- 
tated the whole affair, I should forgive you. 
It would be impossible for me to impute to 
you any motive aside from what you con- 
sider my best interests. The college routine 
is irksome and I want to go away for a year. 
I shall never be ordained, of course, but I 
am anxious to become your assistant. I 
shall return with that object in view, and 
depend upon it, I will be faithful.” 

The young man arose and prepared to 
leave the apartment regardless of the wan- 
ing hours. Father Vignon listened to his 
steps falling upon the frosty pavement until 
they died away. It was not the quick, nerv- 
ous footfall of a perturbed man, but the 
firm, measured step of one who walks for 
the purpose of deliberating. He sat 
thoughtfully for a few minutes, then going 
to his room he knelt before the crucifix and 
prayed. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE priest's story 

“The absurd figure of a priest setting out 
to prate of love,” mused Father Vignon as 
he approached the Rutherford home one 
morning, a few days after the conference 
with his brother. After ringing for admis- 
sion, the thought of how he should present 
the matter occurred to him for the first 
time. 

He had faced many difficult situations in 
his life. He had entered into heated con- 
troversies in the hope of establishing a 
truth; had endured long trials of mental ex- 
ertion for the sake of a meritorious cause; 
but here he stood with thoughts too intan- 
gible to form into words, and in conse- 
quence, the door opened on a man leaning 
against a pillar, gazing abstractedly into 
vacancy. 

It was Carol who admitted him, she of 
the happy presence, who always endeavored 
to conceal her struggles under the bright 

174 


175 


The Pries fs Story 

cover of cheer. “Certainly there is nothing 
inauspicious in that warm, natural smile,” 
thought he, and the identical circumstance 
that formed itself into a wavering doubt 
concerning Alois, again confronted him, 
making him feel awkward and abashed. 
She extended her hand in cordial greeting; 
but something about him, startlingly like 
his brother, caused her to draw back invol- 
untarily. She thought that he observed her 
impulse, and with the kindly intention of 
putting him at ease, opened the way for en- 
trance to his subject with the suddenness of 
a collision. 

“It was so good of you to come,” said she, 
“and I believe I guess the object of your 
call. I shall expect to be news-crammed 
about mission work.” 

He rarely practiced a deception, though 
never so slight, and now welcomed the op- 
portunity of unburdening himself of this 
one without delay. Being an ingenuous 
man, he knew but one way to approach the 
matter — by the unbroken, direct path that 
lay nearest him. 

“My dear child,” he replied, “I have 
come here under the pretense of sincerity, to 
insinuate upon your unwilling ear a thing 
to which you would have declined to listen, 
had I stated the actual object of my errand.” 


The Vital Touch 


176 

His words conveyed to her no suspicion 
of their real import, and with a faint smile 
of ridicule at his earnest self-disparage- 
ment, she remarked drolly, 

“Why, Father Vignon, for shame!” 

“And now,” he began again, “that you 
partly realize what an imposter I am, I 
shall rely upon your generosity to pardon 
the intrusion and to permit me to speak. It 
is concerning your association with my 
brother.” 

She started at this announcement, but 
made no reply, and after a little pause he 
asked deferentially, 

“May I speak. Miss Rutherford?” 

“Certainly, since you have inconveni- 
enced yourself so far,’’ she returned, coldly. 

If he was affected by her change of man- 
ner he betrayed no sign of it. 

“First of all,” he proceeded, “in justice to 
him, I want to say that I am imposing this 
affair upon you against his wishes. Your 
slightest command would be to him an in- 
violable law. I am aware of the nature of 
his regard for you — of your regard for each 
other, if I may take such liberty of speech. 
My affairs occasioned a protracted visit to 
Chicago some time ago, when I noticed in 
him a depression of spirits which is unusual. 
A little later he came to my home upon re- 


177 


The Priesfs Story 

quest, when my suspicions were confirmed. 
Finally, a letter announcing his unexpected 
intention to go abroad, aroused me to action, 
and I went to see him with the avowed in- 
tention of learning the truth, which he told 
me on compulsion, as it were.’’ 

She made a slight forward movement of 
the body, as if questioning the advisability 
of speaking, but deciding in the negative, 
lapsed again into her attitude of attention. 
He seemed to divine her thought and went 
on hastily: 

“His reticence was natural, considering 
the character of your mutual relation. I 
understand your acquaintance with each 
other is, in reality, very limited. He told 
me his story, reluctantly, as I said; your re- 
ciprocal attachment, his subsequent ad- 
vances and your repeated repulses. My 
exceeding interest in my brother gives me 
unusually clear perceptions concerning his 
affairs, and it came to me with overwhelm- 
ing truth, that the breach between you arose 
from an indiscriminate statement I made to 
you regarding his religious vow. I realize 
what a shock it was to you and I regret my 
mistake more than you can ever know.” 

Her silence, which confirmed his words, 
gave him license to proceed: 

“It is of course true that he expected to be- 


The Vital Touch 


178 

come a priest. Our mother had not favored 
my vocation. She wished to keep her fam- 
ily together. Her entreaties affected me, of 
course. I was about to yield when Alois fell 
ill. She regarded this affliction as a just 
retribution and offered God in return for 
her child’s life, not only my services but the 
life services of the little sufferer as well. 
His whole life had, therefore, been governed 
by religious discipline, except during a 
short term of military service in France. 
While studying for the ministry in Rome, a 
friend of my mother’s, a woman of remark- 
ably quick intuitive powers, protested very 
strongly against what she called coerced 
obedience. She reasoned that enforced cel- 
ibacy is a sin against nature. Besides, she 
thought he had been deprived of the right 
of individual preference in regard to the 
professions. The suggestions made me un- 
comfortable. I deliberated a long time 
about the matter, and at last taking counsel 
with the lady, we decided to put him to the 
test. With that sole object in view, I came 
to the United States, opposed, and misun- 
derstood, too, by all except my brother. He 
left home and friends to follow me in blind 
confidence, but as I said, he was willing to 
come, and never suspected, I think, my mo- 
tive for causing his withdrawal from the 


179 


The Pries fs Story 

seminary. I determined to let his destiny 
shape itself. Since then he has had some 
social life but has not been at all susceptible 
to its influence ; yet on the other hand, as time 
went on he seemed to have less and less in- 
clination for a religious calling. Finally he 
drifted into college again, becoming a 
teacher of languages as you probably know. 
Then by degrees, the desire to make his life 
of permanent value again possessed me, and 
with that desire came the old urge. I once 
more decided for him. I would make him 
a priest. We never talked it over together, 
it was, rather, a tacit understanding between 
us. I think, in fact I know, I threw out a 
suggestion from time to time, until finally it 
took the form of a settled purpose. Few 
people outside the college have had any in- 
timation of it. I doubt if even Mr. Gifford 
was aware of any such intention on his part. 
But you may readily see how it happened 
that I spoke with unwarranted confidence.’^ 

There was a pause and then she spoke 
softly and wholly without animation: 

“Your explanation relieves me of many 
humiliating apprehensions, and I am grate- 
ful to you for it; however, for personal rea- 
sons, I shall hope to pursue my chosen 
course without hindrance and — without 
interference.” 


i8o 


The Vital Touch 


Father Vignon winced, but his determina- 
tion was by no means weakened. 

“I can see no reason why a reconciliation 
should be a hindrance or an interference if 
you both wish it,” he ventured. 

“But I do not wish it,” she answered with 
sharp decision. 

He regarded the demure, half-averted 
face with no little interest, and knew he had 
a strong nature to contend against. 

“Miss Rutherford, do you love my 
brother?” he asked in a confiding tone. 

“Yes,” she answered without looking up, 
the word trembling on her lips. 

“Then do not sacrifice your happiness — 
and his, who is entirely blameless. He 
would serve you with his life.” 

For a moment the strong will wavered, 
inspiring him with sudden hope. Then all 
unexpectedly, she looked at him with full 
view and answered peremptorily: 

“Father Vignon, you can never know the 
humiliation I have passed through. My 
moral nature has received a shock from 
which I hope I may recover in time, but I 
must bide the time. I wish to have per- 
fectly free play for my future actions in as- 
sisting me to restore, if possible, my lost con- 
fidence in myself. I also wish to give him 


The Priests Story i8i 

the privilege of absolute freedom of motive ; 
so it is best as it is, and please let it be so.” 

‘‘Even in view of the new light which I 
have thrown upon his conduct? His ad- 
vances were honorable, he had taken no ir- 
revocable vows,” he persisted. 

“The advances were mine. I took the ini- 
tiative — ” 

“I understand,” he said hastily as if 
anxious to avoid a fresh line of argument. 
“Your feminine mind was the first to grasp 
the subtle recognition, which some call in- 
tuition, that you loved each other. There is 
no impropriety in that. It was as natural as 
it is for the budding shoots to burst out in 
early spring to meet the advances of nature. 
It is a foolish conventionalism which re- 
gards that impulse in woman as inimical to 
her modesty. I am going to ask you to re- 
consider this matter before deciding,” he 
said, again facing the main issue. 

“My decision is absolute,” she replied. 

“It cannot be ; it must not be,” he returned 
with spirit. “It is not right nor just that the 
matter should terminate in this way. You 
can do for him what I, with all my highly 
conceived plans have failed in utterly. It 
has come to me with astonishing reality that 
I have been far from a potent factor in his 
life after all. There is no power so great as 


i 82 


The Vital Touch 


that which comes to the soul through union 
with one of equal strength. I have, by 
covert means, I might almost say, led him 
toward a life which nature and reason close 
against him. It is through you, and you 
alone, that he may reach possibilities attain- 
able by no other power than the greatest 
human influence — the power of love.” 

There was a long silence which neither 
attempted to break until at last she asked, 

“Father Vignon, your brother expects to 
work with you at St. Xavier Missions, does 
he not?” 

The priest cleared his throat uneasily. 

“He expected to assist me there, but I 
cannot permit it now. I have decided that 
he shall not come. It would be a veritable 
sacrifice because it is not his calling. I 
hoped that it would be, but it is not. Miss 
Rutherford, forget the past and accept a 
good man’s love.” 

The priest had scored a point and he re- 
alized it. A lenient answer lay close to her 
lips. He saw them twitch susceptibly. 

“I have lost faith in myself,” she replied 
softly. “It would be folly to allow myself 
to be influenced by anyone or by any senti- 
ment till that faith is restored. Any trivial 
circumstance might engender doubt. The 
exceptional relation existing between us 


The Priesfs Story 183 

makes me waver. I wish to meet him con- 
fidently and unafraid, so it is better to pro- 
ceed cautiously, and with that object in view 
I shall try to point out a safe way. If, at 
some future time your brother wishes to re- 
sume his association with me, he may do so, 
but in order that he may be absolutely free 
to follow his own inclination in the mean- 
time, he is to have no knowledge for two 
years to come, that we are ever to meet again 
by my consent. There will be no reason in 
those circumstances why he should feel ob- 
liged to renew the association, or expect it 
of me. The desire to unite with his order 
may return and it is well that there shall be 
no hindrances.” 

“It will not return,” answered the priest. 

“Nevertheless, I, who have given him 
such efficacious encouragement, must apply 
the test,” she returned conclusively. 

The priest shook his head. 

“Your test is a severe one, but beggars 
should be content I suppose. And yet it 
may be better. At any rate, if there were 
more women like you, there would be fewer 
marital difficulties.” 

He took up the mater of their mission in- 
terests designedly, and the conversation 
went on without interruption for the next 
hour. 


184 


The Vital Touch 


“May I call you by a name other than 
your own?” he asked, as he arose to go. 

“Yes,” she answered sweetly, “if you wish 
it.” 

“Yours is appropriate for a baby or a 
bird, but a more significant one would suit 
you better.” 

He raised his hand as if to invoke a bless- 
ing, and, anticipating his purpose, she 
dropped on her knee before him, as natur- 
ally as if it had been the custom of her 
every day life, bowing her head reverently. 
His hand rested lightly on her soft hair, as 
he repeated: “Mary, Star of the Sea. May 
your influence guide your pilgrim to a safe 
harbor. May God watch over you both, 
and may He unite you at last in holy bonds 
is the blessing I wish you, in the name of the 
Father and of the Son and of the Holy 
Ghost, Amen.” 

They walked to the door in silence. Tears 
came quietly into her eyes when she offered 
her hand, but he raised it to his lips without 
a word, and was gone. 

“After all,” thought he, “she is right. 
The safest way is best. Like another Mary, 
she has chosen the better part which shall 
not be taken from her.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


love’s pilgrim 

Carol had been gone from home three 
v^eeks to the day when Alois Vignon sent an 
early morning message from the Gifford 
residence to Miss Rutherford, asking per- 
mission to call. She replied she would be 
most happy to see him and that she would 
expect him at 1 1 o’clock. She attached no 
importance whatever to the request, sup- 
posing, very naturally, that he was paying a 
passing courtesy to a close friend of his 
hostess, and busied herself till the recollec- 
tion of it came to her almost on the stroke 
of time. 

After telling the maid she would answer 
the door herself, she took up two letters 
which had been waiting her leisure, and set- 
tled herself to read. The letters were both 
from her nieces. She opened Carol’s first 
and after reading it carefully, set it aside 
with a smile of satisfaction. Miss Waring’s 
running scrawl and scattered thoughts 
185 


The Vital Touch 


1 86 

formed a combination that taxed her pa- 
tience a little, and her eyesight as well. So 
she began the second missive with far less 
eagerness, but it happened that the hand- 
writing was plainer than usual and the 
meaning more precise. As she read on, her 
eyes seemed fixed to the paper as if she were 
gazing at some hideous object against the 
consent of her will. After finishing it, she 
sat for a moment endeavoring to recover her 
senses, then jumping to her feet, she cried: 
“I condemn myself for having read this 
foul, venomous thing. How dare she ad- 
dress these words to me! my innocent 
CaroF’ 

Suddenly she threw her hands above her 
head with the convulsive gasp of one who re- 
ceives a deadly blow, as the words of her 
adopted child came back to her with deaf- 
ening echo: “I didn’t know it was so hard 
to make a confession.” She sank lifelessly 
upon the couch. Gradually her pent-up 
senses relaxed, and heavy thoughts surged 
in. Could it be possible there was one word 
of truth in that accusation? Had Carol’s 
association with the priest who had called 
there a few weeks before justified suspicion? 
And the brother of the man was coming 
this morning! What did it all mean? What 
tangle of affairs had she gotten into with 


Lovers Pilgrim 187 

these papists. She would refuse to see him. 
She arose, pride supporting her, and was 
about to cross the room when her eyes fell 
upon the young man hastening toward the 
house. Despite her resolution, she stood 
looking at him. The quick manly swing, 
full of life and youth, attracted her. He 
sprang up on the veranda, two steps at a 
time, and stood facing her at the side win- 
dow. He glanced in, and the look was 
eloquent in his behalf. “Surely ‘nothing 
ill can dwell in such a temple,’ ” thought 
she, and opened the door. She meant to 
greet him cordially, but her hand touched 
his with meaningless passivity. She tried 
to speak naturally, but failed. Motioning 
him to a chair, she sank helplessly into one 
on the opposite side of the room. Her dis- 
tress was painfully apparent, but he was too 
faultlessly suave to appear in any way af- 
fected, and talked on irrelevantly, with the 
kindly intention of relieving her from any 
effort to sustain the conversation. 

There seemed to be no possible hope of 
accomplishing the object of his call. His 
experiences were teaching him by a persist- 
ently progressive method, that he had little 
to hope for from any source. Fate seemed 
to have directed the case against him from 
the first. At length she inquired about his 


1 88 


The Vital Touch 


friends; she had rather expected they would 
accompany him. He replied frankly that 
he had preferred to come alone, that his call 
had a dual purpose of pleasure and request. 

“I expect to go abroad,’’ he said unhesitat- 
ingly and coming to the point at once. “For 
a reason best known to your niece, I have 
been cut ofif from all means of communicat- 
ing with her. I wish to respect her com- 
mands so far as it is humanly possible, and 
have come to beg a favor of you. You will 
infer from this, that my personal regard for 
her is far from ordinary, and also my in- 
terest in anything that concerns her. My 
request is, in case of reverses of any kind 
overtaking her in her work that you will 
send me word to an address which I shall 
leave with you. Should her project fail to 
receive the necessary financial support, I 
may be an efficient instrument of service in 
your hands to assist her secretly, provided 
you can countenance that form of conniv- 
ance. Some overshadowing doubts compel 
me to take this rather presumptuous course, 
which I trust you will see fit to sustain.” 

Like Father Vignon, he was never prolix. 
Besides, he meant to be as brief as possible 
and at the simple conclusion looked at her 
with frank expectancy. 

She received his words as one who had 


Lovers Pilgrim 


189 

heard but who had missed their meaning. 
She had, in fact, reached the end of her en- 
durance. Covering her face with her trem- 
bling hands, she broke out: 

“I cannot understand this complication. 
It is not your name which has been coupled 
with that of my niece — it is your brother’s.” 

“My brother’s? What can you mean. 
Miss Rutherford?” 

“Yes, your brother’s,” she repeated 
weakly. “Father Vignon’s.” 

She reached for the letter and placed it in 
his hands. “Read it,” she commanded. He 
did so, and arose, handing it back to her 
with haughty reserve. 

“Dear lady, I am sure you have never dis- 
honored yourself till now by giving ear to 
such an untruth as this,” he said calmly. 

“You are right,” she answered with eager 
credulity. “You are right. I am abused 
with a falsehood, I know it is all false.” 

“Father Vignon is the soul of honor and 
your niece is above reproach,” he said, the 
indignation rising to his face like a surging 
tide. 

She looked up at the figure of manly re- 
pose, and somehow, beneath the outward 
form, the invisible presence of Carol seemed 
united with his. She saw in his attitude the 
impulse of protection. His every expres- 


190 


The Vital Touch 


sion was eloquent in defense of her child, 
and with sudden shame at her own misgiv- 
ings, she burst out through her tears: 

“Oh, my poor Carol! my gentle girl who 
has never wronged a person in all the world, 
even by a secret thought I Tell me,” she con- 
tinued feebly, motioning him nearer, “tell 
me if you know, what possible circumstance 
could have led to this dreadful misrepre- 
sentation?” 

“I can’t tell you that, but I can prove it 
is false to the satisfaction of the most dis- 
trustful person on earth. Father Vignon 
spent the hour between the arrival of the 
train and the departure of the boat at the 
Gifford cottage on Green Bay, Saturday 
evening of the date named in the letter. 
That he was at St. Xavier Missions and cele- 
brated mass there at 7 o’clock the follow- 
ing morning is a fact that may be attested by 
two hundred worshippers among whom I 
was one.” 

“Heaven be praised for your presence 
here this morning! I should have gone dis- 
tracted. I am to blame, dreadfully to 
blame, for having given this accusation a 
passing thought; and while I shall not at- 
tempt to excuse myself for harboring such 
a doubt, I must say that I was misled by 
Carol’s own word of mouth. She attempted 


Lovers Pilgrim 


191 

to unburden her mind of some fancied 
wrong she had committed, but I refused to 
allow her to repeat a word of it. You may 
imagine my feeling when I seemed to read 
the confirmation of what she tried to tell 
me.” 

“It is possible the fault of which she ac- 
cused herself arose from a wrong impression 
she chanced to receive concerning my in- 
eligibility to address her, which has resulted 
in our estrangement. The facts as repre- 
sented to her, would exclude me from that 
form of association I sought to establish with 
her. I don’t question the wisdom of her 
course, and most confidently hope the liberty 
I take with her affairs in making this ex- 
planation is pardonable.” 

“I certainly think any misunderstanding 
between you is to be regretted by all inter- 
ested,” said Miss Rutherford, feelingly. “I 
am quite sure I consider it a great misfor- 
tune.” 

He was confident that he had found an 
earnest advocate, whose coming, when his 
affairs had taken on their gloomiest turn, 
gave him rallying courage. 

No excuse would induce her to consent to 
his leaving her home that morning, although 
he ingeniously fashioned a plausible one. 
“My commands are imperative and I shall 


192 


The Vital Touch 


not tolerate insubordination,” said she. “I 
intend that you shall talk about yourself and 
expect a high grade entertainment as they 
say in vaudeville. A Parisian ought to be 
equal to the requirement.” 

“Oh, I can put up a good talk about my- 
self but the trouble is I have been sadly lack- 
ing an opportunity,” he replied with a face- 
tiousness he could not have commanded an 
hour before. 

“An audience, rather,” she amended. 

His substantial presence filled the house 
with a sense of the companionship she 
missed. His wholesome, full life attracted 
her. 

“I shall be obliged to leave you for half 
a second,” she said, impelling him gently 
into the library. As she went out to give in- 
structions to the cook, she thought, 

“Surely nature never created a man of 
such proportions without giving him a 
great, generous heart to complete her 
handiwork.” 

To be here in Carol’s home seemed 
strange. To be welcomed as the most fav- 
ored guest, yet separated from her by a sev- 
erance as wide as the heavens! He felt like 
an intruder notwithstanding Miss Ruther- 
ford’s open-hearted hospitality. He would 
not have expected to reach Carol’s presence 


193 


Lovers Pilgrim 

by the most adroitly managed plan, and he 
seemed to be taking an unfair advantage of 
her absence by remaining where it was her 
sovereign right to exercise authority. This 
home of wealth and comfort presented but 
a pitiful appearance to him, stripped as it 
was of its fairest ornament, yet everything 
spoke of her. The books, clasping their 
rare secrets within closed leaves, the silent 
musical instruments, the carefully stored 
periodicals, all these voiceless sentiments 
crept over his senses like so many messages. 

Miss Rutherford re-entered the room 
with unconcealed pleasure at the prospect 
of the brief association, and he responded 
with a sympathy of interest that made the 
hour fly rapidly by, 


CHAPTER XX 


SCENES ABROAD 

One afternoon, several weeks after Alois’ 
arrival in Paris, his sister, Madame Jac- 
quard, sat at the front window of her 
'boudoir, her baby in her arms, rocking and 
thinking. Several times she peeped under 
the silken covering which half hid the little 
face, and each time the child mewed out a 
feeble remonstrance, causing her to settle 
back in her chair to resume her occupation. 

At length her husband carne home and 
stole into the room in obedience to a secret 
signal, but for all their heedfulness, the 
bundle stirred and two little fists asserted 
their rights to freedom with an impetuos- 
ity that proved as amusing as if it had been 
the drollest quip of the most privileged 
jester. His determination to see and hear 
what was going on was not to be thwarted, 
and no wheedling could cajole him into 
thinking better of being put to sleep, all of 
which looked quite prodigious to his proud 
194 


Scenes Abroad 


195 

parents and they heartily applauded his 
spirit. 

When Madame Jacquard again looked 
out of the window, the carriage was stand- 
ing near the house. Alois had just emerged. 
There was a fluttering movement within 
and then a young lady appeared, resembling 
at first glance an immense bird of brilliant 
plumage. Her tiny foot rested on the car- 
riage step^ and as she reached toward the 
proffered hand of her companion, the 
horses, impatient of restraint, started off. 
He swung her forward with equal momen- 
tum, and the next instant she was safe in his 
arms. 

‘^Good gracious!” cried Madame Jac- 
quard in a voice of alarm that brought her 
husband to the window with a bound. But 
the young lady was now on terra-firma 
laughing away her fright with the bravest 
resistance possible. 

wish you would dispose of those fracti- 
ous horses,” said she. “They nearly threw 
Louise out of the carriage. Jarvis doesn’t 
understand them at all, and besides no one 
keeps horses now-a-days. How petite she 
looks beside Alois! I confess to a manoeu- 
vring spirit in planning her visit at this 
time. I know of no one better suited to 
him.” 


196 The Vital Touch 

^‘You will not do well to let him suspect 
your motive.” 

“Why?” 

“Because he will plan an escape.” 

“And she?” 

“It doesn’t matter about Louise! it is dif- 
ferent with women. It would help her 
weave her subtle web.” 

Madame Jacquard’s lip curled. 

“The stern sex is a gullible lot!” She 
arched her eyebrows. “It is a trifle embar- 
rassing to hear this from one’s husband. If 
I had realized it, I should have given you 
an opportunity to plan an escape, I assure 
you.” 

He laughed. “I wasn’t anxious to es- 
cape, ma femme; but to tell the truth, I was 
a great deal more afraid of Maurice’s an- 
swer than yours.” 

“Well, then, if we have that important 
point settled, let us consider a more inter- 
esting phase of the subject,” she replied 
her lips parting into a smile in spite of an 
attempt to look bored. “Alois’ visit is a 
disappointment to me. I can’t come to any 
satisfactory conclusion about him. He is 
perfectly affable and all that, but he lacks 
that vim and life which was so becoming a 
part of his personality. Even Louise’s an- 
imation casts no reflection on his spirits. I 


Scenes Abroad 


197 


regard it no perversion of principle to place 
her like a bright flower in his path, because 
while it was Maurice’s vocation to be a 
priest, it seems too bad to permit Alois to 
lead that kind of life.” 

“Have you ever heard Alois express a de- 
sire to become a priest?” 

“No; at least not recently, but if he hadn’t 
expected to, why did he ever go to Rome?” 

“He went to Rome because your mother 
insisted. Maurice knows that if you don’t. 
It wasn’t right, Hortense. It is all wrong, 
and I’ll wager anything he will never go 
back unless Maurice urges it very strongly.” 

“But if he promised mother — ” 

“Good God, woman ! would you have him 
surrender his principle to a sentiment? He 
was only a boy when he made that promise, 
and Maurice, being his guardian, has nat- 
urally influenced him. Maurice told me 
about your mother’s request when I asked 
him for your hand.” 

“Then why did Maurice take him to the 
United States?” 

“Ask me something easy. I only know 
that Maurice doesn’t do things without a 
reason. And I know another thing, Hor- 
tense, your brother’s behavior is suspiciously 
like—” 

“Like what, Paul, what?” 


198 


The Vital Touch 


^‘Like a man who is troubled.” 

Madame Jacquard started. 

“Reason it out for yourself,” he con- 
tinued. “A religious votary usually ob- 
serves a special line of conduct. I needn’t 
comment upon this point. His conduct is 
all right as it is, but there is not a suggestion 
of a priest’s ardor about him. Then again, 
it is not consistent with his habits of life to 
come here for an indefinite time without a 
definite motive. He never was in better 
health, yet he is dispirited. It looks suspic- 
ious, doesn’t it?” 

M. Jacquard was seldom mistaken, and 
his wife had every confidence in his dis- 
cernment. 

“You may be right, Paul,” she said after 
some thought. “I have been watching him 
for weeks. He is so apathetic. He is never 
caught up and carried away with enthusi- 
asm as he used to be. He does everything 
in a half-hearted way that is not at all nat- 
ural to him. At first I thought it was en- 
gendered by the long, dull routine of col- 
lege life; then I feared he was beginning 
to renounce worldly considerations; but 
most of all he acts like a person whose 
spirit dwells apart. I have seen him brush 
past a dozen social duties which I have at- 
tempted to impose upon him, till he comes 


Scenes Abroad 


m 


face to face with an inevitable encounter, 
when he submits like a hero. I can’t bear 
to see it. I am heartily ashamed of the mis- 
takes I have made, because, as I said, while 
he has not objected to the order of things 
which I have instituted, he has had no 
heart to follow it.” 

Dinner was announced and after more 
ado over the little one, he was yielded to 
the nurse. They descended to find their 
young relatives entertaining themselves by 
mutual assistance. Louise was trying a 
catchy air without the aid of words to give 
it meaning. The room was in semi-dark- 
ness. In attempting to follow her painful 
exertions with a piano accompaniment, 
Alois not only proved himself an unskilled 
conductor, but was committing so many ir- 
regularities of technique that his ideas of 
harmonical proportions seemed most dis- 
tressingly defective. 

Madame Jacquard stole into the room 
and called out in her loudest voice, 

‘The joy of concord and harmony,’ says 
the poet. I wonder what he would be 
tempted to say to this?” 

A melody of surprised laughter took the 
place of the discordant notes. 

“You would better wonder what he would 


200 


The Vital Touch 


not be tempted to say. This is villainous,” 
remarked her husband following her in. 

They were called to dinner the second 
time. The affectionate sister’s heart was 
full of remorse, and a great lump in her 
throat made it impossible to swallow her 
food. Had Alois been less willing to please, 
she felt she would have fewer regrets. 
Charming as Louise was, her company must 
be but a sufferance. The more she surveyed 
his deportment of the past two months, the 
more indubitable became the signs her hus- 
band had pointed out. 

She toyed with her soup, hardly tasting 
it, and now made it her care to watch him 
closely as they drank their Madeira. 
Louise, even more vivacious than usual, was 
giving a little resume of the latest operatic 
absurdity, suiting the action to the word 
and the word to the action. M. Jacquard 
laughed and applauded and forgot to drink. 
Alois sipped his wine, leaning heavily back 
in his chair. He was extremely reserved, 
but reserve belonged naturally to him. His 
dark, sensitive face was calm through dis- 
cipline. It was seldom that his eyes, so in- 
flammable in the old days, caught fire from 
any source of interest. 

As his sister regarded him, she ventured 
conjecture without end. She knew him 


Scenes Abroad 


201 


capable of intense feeling — who could look 
into the passionate depths of his eyes and 
not know it? — but of all the vicissitudes of 
life, the unhappy one of disappointment in 
love had never occurred to her as a possible 
contingency in his. 

It was late that night before the little 
family group dispersed, and Madame Jac- 
quard was the last to follow wearily up- 
stairs. 

Despite her resolution to await an op- 
portune time to beg her brother’s confidence, 
she found herself unable to pass his door. 
She listened, and hearing no sound, entered 
quietly. The room was dimly lighted and 
he reclined in his easy chair as if inviting 
the solitude. She felt out of place and made 
up her mind to retreat. She was adding 
weight to his burden by depriving him of 
the only refuge wherein the heart could take 
counsel with the thoughts. 

“I have just come to say good-night,” she 
said softly. “Never mind the light, I think 
I hear the baby. Your room is cold. It 
chills me through and through.” 

“Good night, Hortense,” he answered 
quietly as she withdrew. 

“Always the same dear boy,” she said to 
herself. “How much he grows like our 
mother! I wish I hadn’t disturbed him. I 


202 


The Vital Touch 


am sure either Maurice or Paul would have 
betrayed annoyance. Oh, dear! oh, dear! 
I do so lack an understanding of the fitness 
of things.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE INTERVIEW 

Madame Jacquard made no attempt to 
converse privately with her brother during 
the following week, but made it her care to 
study him closely. At last Louise’s visit 
was over and she resolved to take advantage 
of the first suitable occasion to test her con- 
clusions. It came one morning when he was 
lying upon the couch in the large down- 
stairs sitting room. Quietly parting the 
portieres, she approached on tip-toe, uncer- 
tain as to whether or not he was awake. His 
right arm was thrown over his head in such 
a position as to hide his face from her view. 
She stopped half way across the room and 
was about to retire, when he threw his hand 
out in an inviting gesture saying, 

‘T’m not sleeping, Hortense, come here.” 

A half dozen tripping steps brought her 
to his side. He attempted to arise, but she 
stretched her two palms out upon his broad 
chest as if to force him down. He laughed 
203 


204 ^ Vital Touch 

as he fell heavily back, and circling the 
delicate wrists with two fingers, said, 
“There is power enough in these two hands 
to hold down Olympus.” Seating herself 
beside him where there was ample room for 
her little body, she looked down very ear- 
nestly into his deep orbs. “No one’s eyes 
are like yours,” she used to say to him when 
they were children. “I can always tell just 
what you’re thinking about.” And to guess 
had been her favorite amusement. Some- 
times he had closed his eyes and refused to 
open them till she had cried for vexation; 
and then he had opened them so very 
wide, that she ran half frightened to their 
mother with the complaint that Alois 
wouldn’t play nicely at all. “She’s guessing 
what I’m thinking,” he had explained, “and 
I’m thinking I’m a big black bear, and 
sometimes, I’m sound asleep and sometimes 
I’m wide awake and just now I’m wide 
awake and I’m going to eat Little Red Rid- 
inghood up.” 

“For goodness sake, Alois, play that you 
are a bear if you want to, but please don’t 
act so much like one when you are playing 
with your sister,” would come the mild 
rebuke from his mother. 

This morning sitting beside him she put 
her face down very close to his in the old 


The Interview 


205 

childish way, and looking into his eyes, said 
playfully, 

“I can guess what Alois is thinking 
about!” 

“Well, what am I thinking about?” he 
asked. 

“You’re thinking about a woman and 
there is some uncertainty in your mind 
about her, too.” 

“You’re very shrewd but nevertheless 
mistaken. I found the keys to my apart- 
ment in one of my pockets this morning, and 
I was wondering how the janitor managed 
to get in.” 

“Honor bright, now, weren’t you thinking 
about Louise?” 

“Honor bright, I haven’t thought about 
Louise since she left.” 

“Didn’t she look perfectly sweet in that 
grey traveling gown?” 

“Yes; she looked for all the world like a 
Maltese kitten.” 

Having gained no headway in that direc- 
tion, Madame Jacquard determined to start 
out afresh on a new trail. 

“Alois, you don’t intend to be a priest, do 
you?” 

He smiled. “Have you designs on me for 
Louise?” 


2o6 


The Vital Touch 


“I have not, but I’m in earnest. Are you 
going to be a priest?” 

^‘No.” 

“You have never met anyone for 'whom 
you care a lot, I suppose?” 

“Oh, yes I have! man proposes but wo- 
man disposes, you know.” 

“Can that be possible? And you every- 
thing a woman could desire!” 

“Am I? Thank you, little sister,” he 
said taking her hand. 

There was a moment’s silence. 

“You love a woman who will not accept 
you?” she asked. 

“Constructively that.” 

“Consider the lilies of France,” she said 
with a pretty toss of her head. 

He made no answer and not wishing to 
drift away from her mooring, she went on 
inconsequently, 

“Knowing her heart is not yours, can’t 
you be reconciled to the inevitable?” 

“I have very convincing proof that her 
heart is mine and yet I must be reconciled 
to the inevitable.” 

“Oh!” 

She scarcely knew how to proceed. “You 
have been cast hopelessly adrift, you say?” 
she ventured. 

“I have.” 


The Interview 


207 


“I’ll to the rescue,” she replied enthusi- 
astically. “Give me permission and I shall 
plead your case with words so sweet that she 
will think the pen that wrote them was 
dipped in the honey of the Hybla bees. She 
is an American, of course?” 

“A typical American.” 

“Tell me about her, Alois.” 

Woman is man’s natural confidante. He 
yields his secrets to her as naturally as the 
flower opens it3 heart to the sun. Alois, who 
had resented Father Vignon’s advances, not 
only submitted to his sister’s, but met her 
half way. Without the least reserve, he re- 
lated the several incidents and happenings 
that made up the sum total of his retrogress- 
ive course of love, taking care not to impli- 
cate Father Vignon. When he had con- 
cluded, she said, 

“I love her dearly, because you do. What 
is she like?” 

“She is a superb woman. Nature has 
given her a happy balance of the physical 
and intellectual. She has wit — sparkling, 
delightful wit — not the poignant kind that 
stings, nor does she wear it as a glittering 
ornament to dazzle or disturb, as witty peo- 
ple are apt to do. The beauty of goodness 
is hers, the charm of infinite tenderness. I 
doubt if the careless eye would call her 


2o8 


The Vital Touch 


beautiful, but I little care what she is to 
others. I only know that she has touched 
the deepest vein of feeling in my nature. 
Ah, sister mine! there is a whole world of 
love in the heart, of that one girl. It seems 
to me the time never was when I didn’t know 
her, and often when the silence is deepest 
she still seems near. I often hear her voice, 
a voice, by the way, that is the sweetest, the 
most flexible and the very happiest voice I 
have ever heard. It so well expresses what 
she herself is. Her animation is simply in- 
fectious; it makes your spirits dance as to 
music. There is health in it, there is sweet- 
ness and delicacy in it; a freedom that wings 
its flight above the petty restraints and 
idiotic conventions by which most women 
regulate their actions, and yet her reserve 
is charming. One feels its exhalations even 
in her freest moods, as the sweetest fra- 
grance is emitted from the flower when it 
is in motion. I can imagine no extension of 
time when I shall cease to feel the joy I ex- 
perienced in her presence. I was swept 
away from everything else in a torrent of 
delight. Were she one among a score of 
people, I should have seen no one, nothing, 
save a bright-faced, lovely woman. Still, I 
hope in time to fall back into the straight 
line of normal life by pursuing some health- 


The Interview 


209 


ful occupation calculated to restore the 
stability I have lost. At present I feel like 
one, who having been torn to shreds, has 
been patched up and labeled, ‘To be or not 
to be.’ ” 

“I can’t see why you had to fall a prey 
to circumstances. You don’t deserve it. In- 
deed you do not. And while I am glad, 
very glad, that you can talk dispassionately 
about the matter, I have this to say: Great 
creating Nature differentiates the love im- 
pulse in the sexes, and if she loves as you do, 
she will find her way to you. Love is a part 
of a man’s life, you know, but it is a woman’s 
whole existence. Being an intermediary be- 
tween God and man and serving, as she does, 
a sacred purpose in the miraculous scheme 
of things, she is endowed with a love nature 
which impels her to fulfill that purpose un- 
swervingly. She seeks love as water seeks 
its level. She can’t help it. She is governed 
by the same Force that influences worlds and 
guides the stars. Believe me, if she really 
loves you as such a woman can love, she will 
come to you. She may be exceptional, but 
she is human. Brother dear, will you let me 
write to her, in your behalf?” 

“It would not influence her in the least. 
Besides, Maurice talked with her and 
failed.” 


210 


The Vital Touch 


“Well, to what extent did he fail?’’ 

“He insisted upon going to see her, but 
the result was so hopeless that he has never 
had the heart to speak of it. He never 
again referred to it.” 

“It must be that she has given her promise 
to another and has not been released,” said 
Madame Jacquard. “In that case, she, of 
course, would not accept your attention nor 
be so untrue to you whom she loves, as to 
marry him — have you thought of that?” 

“Oh yes, I have thought of everything 
possible. Like the wanderer, I have 
shouted question after question into the Si- 
byl-cave of destiny and received no answer 
but an echo,” answered he, truthfully 
enough. But he dare not express his honest 
conviction that Carol could never be in- 
duced to interpose herself between Father 
Vignon and one whom he had declared to 
be as necessary to his welfare as life itself. 

“I am glad, brother, that you told me 
this, and I thank you for your confidence.” 

They lapsed into a long silence. “You 
haven’t regretted coming?” she finally 
asked as she arose. 

“Not at all. I couldn’t have wished to 
be more happily circumstanced, but I must 
soon move on.” 


The Interview 


2II 


^‘Oh, Alois, you are not going away! cer- 
tainly you don’t mean to leave us!” 

“Why bless your heart, Hortense, I can’t 
drop anchor here. I must try my sails. I 
shall steer for the south of France and very 
likely I’ll go to Italy, also. Then if you say 
so, I shall come back for another long visit 
before returning to the United States. How 
does that suit you?” 

“It wouldn’t suit me entirely, I suppose, 
if you would promise to make your next visit 
to me include every day of your life except 
one.” 

She left the room shortly afterwards, and 
as she passed she caressed him saying: 

“You are the darlingest brother in all 
the world, Alois. My prayer shall be to see 
you her — ” 

“Hush! Hortense, hush! you mock me,” 
he replied waving her away. 


CHAPTER XXII 

NEWS FROM ACROSS THE OCEAN 

It was late summer of the year following 
Alois’ arrival in Paris. He was still in Italy 
where, for reasons unknown to his sister, he 
remained much longer than he had in- 
tended when he left her home. M. Jac- 
quard, too, compelled by the inconvenience 
of their present location, was away from her 
more than they had anticipated would be 
necessary. And as the time wore on and 
Alois offered no explanation for his pro- 
tracted stay, she complained of loneliness, 
which was by no means feigned, in the hope 
of occasioning his return. 

She had confidently expected that time 
would unfurl some hopeful sign of change 
in his love affair, but she watched in vain. 
He had arranged that every communica- 
tion received for him should pass through 
her hands, so that no matter how tran- 
sitory his sojourn in any place might be, 
she could reach him, if necessary, without 
212 


News From Across the Ocean 213 

delay. She understood well what his re- 
quest implied, and it touched her deeply. 
Every day increased her desire to have him 
back. She longed to give to him the full 
and sympathetic companionship of woman 
to man from which he had always been 
deprived. 

At last, in response to a sweetly urged 
request, he wrote that his sister’s presence 
would be far brighter than strange Italian 
skies, and that he contemplated an early 
return to France for the exclusive purpose 
of devoting the remainder of his life to 
entertaining her and her offspring. He 
came shortly afterward, adapting himself 
to her arrangements with the same passivity 
which had characterized his previous be- 
havior. 

She longed to see him as he was in times 
gone by, brilliant, reckless, defiant, with a 
daring independence of action which 
scorned to imitate but which invited imita- 
tion. He had become less masterful in many 
ways, but he had never been so dear to her 
as now, suspended precariously, as he was, 
at the extremity of a great passion. When 
he seemed inclined to talk, she listened. 
When he eluded her, she slipped out of his 
presence unobserved. When he became 


214 


The Vital Touch 


restless, she put some diverting thing in his 
way unsuspected. 

“You always were fond of Italy,’’ she re- 
marked one morning at the conclusion of a 
long account of his trip. 

“Strange that anyone should be fond of 
Italy, now, isn’t it?” he answered pleasantly. 

“Of course it isn’t, but I thought that you 
— that you — ” 

“That I was fonder of another place? 
You will be surprised to know that I have 
decided to go back to Rome indefinitely.” 

Madame Jacquard started. She laid 
aside her sewing unconsciously, and looked 
at her brother who walked away as if he 
purposed dispatching the news without fur- 
ther ado. 

“It is his way,” thought she. “Alois has 
moods of late, but I ought not to find fault 
with him on that pretense, I suppose.” 
Nevertheless, his unceremonious announce- 
ment offended her a trifle. A thousand 
questions sprang up in her mind and flew 
flustered in as many directions. To Rome! 
the very name filled her with apprehension. 
It was absurd to assume that he had yielded 
to some influence. That firm countenance 
with its traces of passionate memories indi- 
cated anything rather than amenability. 

She took up her sewing again quite as un- 


News From Across the Ocean 215 

consciously as she had laid it aside and 
worked inattentively. After a little while 
he re-entered the room holding up his arm 
by way of hint that the buttons on the sleeve 
needed the application of her needle. She 
lowered her head caressingly over his hand 
saying, 

“My brother, you don’t think that I am 
reconciled to your returning to Rome, do 
you?” 

“You may be perfectly reconciled, Hor- 
tense. I have no thought of finishing my 
theological course. I am going there to 
teach. That is what you mean, is it not?” 

“Why yes, yes, that is what I mean,” she 
answered nervously. “But why are you go- 
ing to Rome?” 

“Why do chickens go home to roost?” he 
answered. “I must find my place. I am 
tossing about like a barque without a bal- 
last. By the way,” he continued, “you may 
be interested in knowing that I made an- 
other appeal to the woman I love.” 

“You know I am interested. When was 
this?” 

“About eight months ago. I thought I 
never should. I didn’t see how a self-re- 
specting individual could. However, my 
pride was as low as my spirits, and I ven- 
tured a final appeal,” 


2i6 


The Vital Touch 


“And what?” questioned Madame Jac- 
quard. 

“She ignored it which is just what I de- 
serve.” 

Madame Jacquard’s face flushed. 

“You don’t deserve it, any such thing. 
I shouldn’t love such a severe woman if I 
were a man,” said she. 

“You are not a man. We don’t know all 
the circumstances you must remember.” 

He walked across the room and looked 
out of the window. 

“As I was going to say,” he resumed, 
“Maurice won’t have me.” He suddenly 
broke off and faced her. “B'ut hang it all, 
Hortense, I’m not a missionary anyway.” 

“Are there no roads but those that lead to 
Rome?” she asked. 

“None safer surely.” He laughed un- 
naturally. “To Rome it must be to teach 
philosophy when I, myself, have need to be 
taught it.” 

“Taught what?” she questioned. 

“That what a man can’t have, he must 
live without.” 

“And you are doing so, very admirably, 
I think.” 

“No,” he answered in a monotone, “I am 
scarcely living at all, at least I am becoming 
insensible to life.” 


News From Across the Ocean 217 

all places to quicken the pulse of 
life!” she exclaimed. 

need a refuge. Had it not been for 
my early environment I should not be able 
to stand as erect as I now can. A man is 
a man, you know.” 

* ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Alois went away again about the first 
of September, this time to clear up some 
business affairs of long standing. On the 
morning of his departure, a letter came 
which Madame Jacquard suspected might 
be of personal import. He expected to 
make no delay, and contrary to his custom, 
he had left no instructions concerning the 
disposition of his mail. So there was noth- 
ing to do but to abide the time. For two 
weeks the letter lay upon the table, during 
which time she examined the fine writing of 
the superscription over and over again, 
wondering what it contained, while she 
watched for him with eager eyes and a hope- 
ful heart. 

He came one night after she had retired. 
She heard the click of the iron gate in the 
garden below her window and recognized 
his firm footstep on the stone pavement. 
She hastened to her door to intercept 
him, calling out that there was a letter on 
the sitting-room table which he would 


2i8 


The Vital Touch 


probably wish to see. Leaning over the 
little balcony she listened for a long time, 
but heard no sound. She decided to go 
down, and after partly dressing, descended 
cautiously. The letter lay open on the 
table and he sat vacantly, his arms folded, 
his features rigid. 

‘What does this mean?” she asked softly, 
hardly venturing beyond the parted por- 
tieres. 

He started up as if unconscious of his ac- 
tion, and staggered from the room. 

Madame Jacquard sank into the chair he 
left vacant. Taking up the letter she read : 

Dear Mr. Vignon : — 

Mindful of your request regarding the 
welfare of my niece, I deem it my duty to 
communicate to you the worst of all news. 
Carol is hopelessly ill. An epidemic of 
typhoid fever has swept through the settle- 
ment school, taking her among the first. 
Last night she became unconscious and our 
physician gives me little encouragement. I 
am crazed from grief. 

Helen C. Rutherford.” 

Madame Jacquard looked at the date of 
the letter. More than three weeks had gone 
by since it was written. She felt chill and 


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‘Merciful God ! The pains of a veritable hell could not exceed 
the torture of this suspense.” 


News From Across the Ocean 219 

numb, and the night wind sent a wailing 
strain through the house, making her shud- 
der. As she crept after her brother up the 
long stairs, she looked about like a fright- 
ened child. She hesitated before his door 
not knowing whether to venture in or to 
abandon him to his misery. The former 
course suggested a former intrusion, but the 
needs of the moment were too pressing to 
weigh against trivial consequences. She en- 
tered with timid step. He was sitting, as 
she had seen him many times before, in the 
same old chair and in the same familiar 
position. 

He arose, a tower of strength shaking like 
a reed in the wind. 

“Merciful God!” cried he, “the pains of 
a veritable hell cannot exceed the torture of 
this suspense.” 

“Miss Rutherford should have sent an 
expeditious message,” Madame Jacquard 
replied quietly. 

“I, alone, am to blame. I should never 
have put such a distance between Carol and 
myself. If she is dead, it will wreck my 
life.” ^ - 

“Don’t say that, Alois, it — ” 

“It will wreck my life,” he repeated pas- 
sionately. “With her I could be everything 
a man should be; without her, what am I? 


220 


The Vital Touch 


I have tried hard for the past year, but I 
have scarcely retained my self-respect, and 
like a coward, I have sought protection 
against myself in Rome. I have taken en- 
tirely too optimistic a view of Miss Ruther- 
ford’s attitude toward me. I thought I had 
her sympathy, really, I thought I had her 
regard, but now I know I was mistaken. 
Nevertheless, I intend to do what is my in- 
alienable right to do, and there is no human 
power that can stop me. I shall start for the 
United States in the morning. I shall see 
her alive or dead, so help me Heaven!” 

Madame Jacquard shrank from the ex- 
traordinary spectacle of his emotion. Yet 
it was only what she had suspected was 
burning within him — the fierce fire of con- 
suming, desperate love, the throb of passion 
and pain, while the outward form was all 
calmness, all submission. 

She began to prepare his trunks and 
little was said as they worked. 

“I’m sorry to leave you when Paul is ab- 
sent, but I should be obliged to go soon any- 
way,” he said at length. 

“Don’t think of me. Louise will come on 
a day’s notice. It is best that you should go 
now. Now is the time to go,” she an- 
swered. 

There were some things she wished to 


News From Across the Ocean 221 

say — messages to send to Father Vignon and 
Mrs. Gifford. Remembrances, too, of her 
own handicraft which she wished to send, 
but she refrained from mentioning them and 
few words were exchanged as they worked. 

When she bade him good night he said: 

“Forgive me, Hortense. I should have 
more stamina. I have felt for the past 
month as if the cold hand of death were 
clutching at my heart, and this letter has 
nearly finished the job. I see that hope is 
the sustaining power of courage and when 
it is gone, all is gone. Fm the veriest 
coward.” 

“She is strong, certainly she will recover. 
I have a large hope that she may,” said Hor- 
tense. 

“The strongest people oftenest succumb 
to typhoid fever. That is a peculiarity of 
the disease,” he answered shortly. 

She could see he did not wish to talk, but 
her heart throbbed sympathetically, impel- 
ling her to add, 

“I have a strong impression that every 
step of your homeward journey will bring 
you so much nearer your heart’s desire.” 

“That’s encouraging, but really it would 
be more so if I could reason it out that way, 
which unhappily I cannot.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE RETURN OF THE PILGRIM 

The winds of heaven favored the young 
man’s purpose. The steamer in which he 
voyaged made excellent speed, sailing by 
day and by night under clear skies and on a 
calm ocean. On the seventh day after leav- 
ing Paris he reached his destination, the 
sharp pain of doubt and fear sending the 
blood through his veins in labored motion. 

He went directly to the Rutherford home, 
shrinking from contact with his other 
friends, to whom a long line of explanations 
was not only inevitable but really their due. 

The broad lawn spread itself out as if in 
boastful pride of its own symmetry and 
beauty, presenting anything but the appear- 
ance of neglect. The house looked less 
cheerful with drawn blinds and no visible 
signs of activity. 

He was admitted by a maid, and once 
within, a great flood of hope filled his 
heart, — the prescience of a mind deepened 
222 


The Return of the Pilgrim 223 

into consciousness by concentrated thought. 
It was as if a sympathetic touch, penetrating 
space, had reached him. He could not have 
been more cognizant of Carol’s presence 
had the realization been visual. 

Miss Rutherford came in with his card 
still in her hand, ben<ling it nervously back 
and forth, yet with the sprightly step of one 
who carries a gracious message. Certainly 
she was not the harbinger of ill tidings. 

^‘Goodness knows I am glad to see you,” 
she said feelingly. “I didn’t dream you 
were in the United States.” 

His eager face expressed deep meaning 
and Miss Rutherford was obviously moved 
as she said quickly: 

“Carol is decidedly better. She has been 
sleeping all morning, which is unusual. No 
disease to which flesh is heir could have 
caused me more alarm than typhoid fever. 
Her father died of it — contracted it in the 
south as she did — and although he was a 
powerfully strong man, nothing, I think, 
could have saved his life. You can imagine 
my state of mind when I seemed to be going 
through the same dread experience with 
her. She is getting on remarkably well, and 
I think I shall tell you without reserve the 
reason why. It is time to draw aside the 
yeil which has so long concealed you from 


224 Vital ToucR 

each other/’ she said with a warm glow of 
feelings 

‘Tather Vignon, hearing through the 
Giffords of Carol’s dangerous illness, com- 
municated to me the cause of your estrange- 
ment. He also informed me of something 
which you have never known. You must 
realize that the knowledge of your chosen 
vocation would be a startling disclosure to 
any scrupulous girl who had committed 
herself as far as Carol had. She felt that 
she had injured herself by making an im- 
mediate surrender of her affections. Her 
self-respect suffered an almost mortal 
wound, and she chose the rigor of separa- 
tion for a number of years in order that time 
might restore it. Your ignorance of the 
compact would, of course, give you the lib- 
erty of unrestricted choice in the matter. 
Father Vignon opened the secret which had 
been sealed between them, only when the 
worst seemed imminent. He felt you ought 
to know it but left the matter to my discre- 
tion. I see you are hurt, but that is a dif- 
ference which must be settled between 
Carol and yourself, as Father Vignon had 
no alternative.” 

“She sought to prove my constancy by 
the test of years,” he answered. His dark 
face crimsoned as he spoke. 


The Return of the Pilgrim 225 

“Your constancy wasn’t considered at all 
problematic, I assure you. She sought to 
make every condition favorable to a perfect 
friendship if fate decreed that you two 
should meet in the future. But the fact 
that she had caused you to go out in the 
world blind-folded, as it seemed, and with- 
out hope, became insufferable to her. It 
was an error and she has been punished for 
it. Her nature is very gentle and her affec- 
tion for you as tender as the heart of a rose. 
She knows that I wrote you, and she ex- 
pected you would respond. It was as if a 
great burden had been lifted from her and 
her spirit freed. Her confidence in your 
love is beautiful. She had childlike faith 
that you would come to her unbidden.” 

The young man was powerless to express 
his feelings. He was dazed like him of the 
fable who, having lived in darkness, was 
suddenly brought face to face with the 
broad sunlight. 

“I presume you thought I was negligent 
about warning you of her condition,” con- 
tinued Miss Rutherford. 

“Yes,” he admitted frankly, “I wondered 
at it very much. It might have been too 
late.” 

“I was trying to act a sincere part with 
both her and you, and I took great pains to 


226 


The Vital Touch 


treat both sides equitably. Unfortunately, 
I didn’t understand the full meaning of 
your mutual relation till her vitality was 
at the lowest possible ebb. I realized then 
that one method of communicating with 
you was the same as another, as, if a change 
for the better hadn’t come, any word would 
have been too late. Then you must remem- 
ber that I warned you of the threatened 
danger at the risk of her displeasure, and as 
it was at variance with the attitude she saw 
fit to assume toward you, I chose the least 
obtrusive way. A cablegram would have 
implied an urgency which she might have 
resented very strongly. I confessed my un- 
authorized action with fear and trepidation, 
but to my unbounded delight the effect was 
magical. The course she dictated in re- 
gard to you has caused her more suffering 
than you can ever know. She has gradually 
improved since I told her that I had written 
you, and while nature is endeavoring to as- 
sist her there is still a great force at work 
against it. I told you in my letter, I think, 
of the condition of affairs at the settlement 
house. The superintendent and several of 
the instructors have fallen ill. In conse- 
quence, the work is being carried on by less 
experienced help. The question is whether 
it is wiser to let the school continue as it is 


The Return of the Pilgrim 227 

or to close it. The epidemic spread just 
when its success seemed to be assured. I 
am not competent to conduct an investiga- 
tion of the matter, and if I were, there is 
still another thing to prevent my doing so. 
My sister, Mrs. Waring, who has been an 
invalid for years, is growing worse, and I 
should be at her bed-side this day. Of 
course I consider that my first duty is to 
Carol, and my affection also centers about 
her. Still I must go to Mrs. Waring as soon 
as possible. I have thought if the burden 
concerning the settlement work were taken 
from Carol, I might leave her with far less 
uncertainty, and I am going to ask you if 
you will give the matter your personal at- 
tention.” 

The young man’s face lighted with a pas- 
sionate desire to serve. The privilege of 
being permitted to perform a duty of love 
for Carol, in this unexpected way, was like 
turning the pains of Tophet into a sense of 
exquisite delight. 

This Miss Rutherford understood from 
him in a few words as candid as they were 
sincere. 

She was impressed even more favorably 
with his personality than at their previous 
meeting. There was a wholesomeness in 


228 


The Vital Touch 


his presence suggesting the vigor of un- 
tainted manhood. 

‘‘I could ask no greater blessing for my 
niece than your love and protection if you 
are all I believe you to be,” she said as he 
was leaving. 

“I should have to be far better than I am 
to be worthy of that trust,” he replied with 
a modesty that had not a false note in it. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


BRIDE ROSES 

After the young man had gone, Miss 
Rutherford stole back to Carol’s room, but 
the invalid still slept. 

“This sleep will do her more good than 
a whole drug store,” thought she, “and the 
restorative I shall administer when she 
awakens will prove the sovereign remedy.” 

She looked in again a little before mid- 
day and found Carol reclining on a couch. 

“Oh. how beautiful! What a huge 
bouquet!” she exclaimed as Miss Ruther- 
ford entered. “Who sent it?” 

“Who do you think may have sent it? 
Now think of the very nicest man in the 
world.” 

“A man, Aunty! And bride roses! Why 
he is as liable to a breach of promise suit as 
the gallant Pickwick. Who is he?” 

“A man, dearie, who would willingly 
have walked every step of the way from 
229 


230 


The Vital Touch 


Paris, if such a thing were possible, for the 
sake of putting them in your arms like this.” 

A beautiful flush covered her pale face, 
and she raised her eyes to her Aunt in a 
pathetic kind of way as if to reprove her 
gently for making light use of a sentiment 
that affected her so keenly. 

“Yes, dear, Alois Vignon was here this 
morning and with your permission he will 
come again later in the day.” 

Grasping the truth, the girl threw out 
her hand toward her relative and buried her 
face in the flowers. Miss Rutherford knelt 
beside her, stroking her forehead affection- 
ately, but saying nothing. 

“Would you like to be alone?” she whis- 
pered at length. 

Carol nodded assent. 


CHAPTTR XXV 


THE SECOND COMING OF LOVE 

That day, for the first time since her ill- 
ness, Carol lunched down stairs and strayed 
from one room to another with a feeling 
akin to alienation. 

‘‘How strange everything looks P’ said she, 
as she entered the library. “Why no won- 
der! everything is changed! there’s Dante 
standing on a dead level with the Venus of 
Milo — a very bad effect indeed — and look- 
ing as bored as if he were afraid the hapless 
lady wanted to hug him. That picture isn’t 
hung well. Bendemere’s stream is trying 
to creep out of the frame and run up the 
wall.” 

“Yes, Miss Carol,” said the maid, put- 
ting in an unexpected appearance from the 
little conservatory adjoining. “You see we 
have to fix the vines and flowers. There’ll 
be frost to-night, good and plenty. I’m not 
to blame about the bored man in bronze, but 
I’m coming in a minute to make the picture 
231 


232 


The Vital Touch 


straight. You don’t object to the ivy run- 
ning back of it and around that corner, do 
you?” 

“No, no, Annette, I don’t object to any- 
thing. I was talking to tease my Aunt a bit 
but I see she has disappeared,” she an- 
swered cheerily. “I’m going to watch you 
work.” 

The maid threw open the wide door 
which separated the library from the glass 
enclosure, rolled a comfortable chair up to 
it, caught up several cushions, and after 
making them light and soft for her by toss- 
ing from one hand to another, resumed her 
occupation as if stimulated by a cheerful 
presence. She worked on for half an hour, 
and being unable to decide a matter of 
doubt, appealed to Carol for advice. But 
the answer never came. 

Miss Rutherford entered the door on the 
opposite side of the room, wavered a mo- 
ment as if in indecision and retired. Carol 
glanced around anticipating her Aunt’s ap- 
pearance, and met in the full light of reality 
one whose presence had pierced the gloom 
of her dreams like a star hanging in dark- 
ness. A low cry escaped her, and starting 
toward him with joyous impulse, she threw 
her arms around his neck and burst into 
tears. There was infinite meaning in the 


The Second Coming of Love 233 

simple action, as with burning check 
pressed close to his, her hand stole over 
his face with the caressing touches a mother 
gives the child whom she has felt it her 
duty to make suffer. Tenderly he took the 
trembling form in his arms, while, with his 
lips upon hers, he breathed his first words 
of love. 

She trembled so violently that half 
alarmed, he led her back to her chair, and 
kneeling beside it, again drew her toward 
him. 

“Carol, my Carol ! I have thought of that 
name so often that it must be inscribed on 
my very heart,’’ said he passionately. “I 
have repeated it with such deep respect that 
it is as sacred as my soul. Why should we 
ever part again, my own? It would be elud- 
ing a destiny marked by the sacred hand 
of Heaven. Give me the right to remain 
with you and bring you back to life and 
health, my pale flower. Ah, what a watch- 
ful nurse I should be! Your aunt is 
obliged to leave you and I think I may say 
assuredly that she entertains no objection 
to leaving you in my care. Think of what 
that would mean to both of us. Leaving 
you to me! while the thought makes me as 
profoundly humbJe as if I were to under- 
take the guardianship of an angel, yet I love 


234 The Vital Touch 

you so entirely, that my love must needs 
have the potency of magic to cure you. I 
have full knowledge of the condition which 
causes your southern interests to decline, 
and I hope it may be my privilege to in- 
quire personally into it. Consent to marry 
me at once and set Miss Rutherford free to 
go to her sister. You will, you will,’^ he 
cried ecstatically, encountering the sweet 
eyes suddenly raised to his with tender 
meaning. “Yes, yes, my own Carol, you 
will marry me at once and I — ” 

“At once,” she replied with effort and 
drawing gently away. “Why, Father 
Vignon isn’t here to marry us at once.” 

“Father Vignon can come in a day,” he 
answered. 

Her remark kindled anew the flame of a 
long nurtured hope. His religion and life 
were linked by an indissoluble tie, and the 
impulse to blend her soul with his in relig- 
ious aspiration had struck its roots deeply 
into his heart. The crucial moment had 
come. He had lived it over in imagination, 
in loneliness, and amongst multitudes; in 
the agony of despair and in the ecstacy of 
triumph; and now, drawing her to him he 
whispered his great desire with all the 
fervor of holy emotion. 

Her trembling pulse, the fitful rising and 


The Second Coming of Love 235 

falling of her breast told how deeply she 
was moved. Again looking into his eyes, 
she repeated with the touching simplicity 
of her nature: 

“Your God shall be my God.” 

He bowed his head over hers for one 
intense moment as if in silent prayer. He 
was always masterful, yet the stress of the 
occasion had left its strong impress upon 
him also. His rapture shone in his coun- 
tenance like beams of the spirit. 

As he planned for their future life work, 
the superstructure for which she had laid 
the foundation with feeble single hand, 
grew into visibility, and they talked till 
Miss Rutherford, who had questioned the 
prudence of surprising her niece in this 
way, came in with evident concern. Alois 
arose to meet her. 

“The words you used in granting me per- 
mission to speak to your niece were never 
excelled in sweetness save by those she used 
in consent. She is mine, her lips have de- 
clared it,” he cried with strong emotion. 
“The only requirement is the presence of 
Father Vignon and the only concern is leav- 
ing Carol alone till my return from the 
South. But then she needn’t be entirely 
alone either — there are the Giffords.” 

“The Giffords or Mrs. Nichols could 


The Vital Touch 


236 

hardly be relied upon just at this time,” said 
Miss Rutherford. “They are expecting a 
celebration of their own.” 

Alois elevated his eyebrows question- 
ingly. 

“Yes, they’re expecting a little one, and 
two more delighted young persons cannot 
be imagined.” 

“Your plan is a very good one,” said Miss 
Rutherford after a little further conversa- 
tion, “but let me venture a suggestion. It is 
probable that I may remain till your re- 
turn. Let’s see! this is Monday. It is likely 
that you can be back by Saturday, and then 
I could reach my sister’s by Sunday even- 
ing. That is not so bad, and unless I am 
called unexpectedly, I shall stay with Carol 
this week. Father Vignon could be here 
Saturday, I presume, and we shall see you 
happily mated before I leave.” 

Once again the young man saw his heaven 
recede, but Miss Rutherford’s quiet in- 
sistence was not to be overcome. 

“Well, see here,” said he, starting up half 
an hour later and studying his watch, “if I 
am to make fast time I must be on the move, 
that’s sure. Time is the important thing 
just now.” He took the hand of his be- 
trothed and assisted her to her feet. Then 


The Second Coming of Love 237 

drawing both women toward him, he 
slipped an arm around each saying, 

“I promise to serve and obey these women 
till—” 

“Till you teach them to serve and obey 
you,” interrupted Carol. 

“Well now, where did you acquire your 
accurate knowledge of men’s ways?” he 
asked. 

“Where the little Prince in the play got 
his knowledge of women — in their faces,” 
she returned. 

“And like some one in another play,” said 
Miss Rutherford, “you will never take 
Carol without an answer unless you take 
her without her tongue.” 

He was soon gone, and Carol resumed 
her chair, feeling as if she had awakened 
from the happiest dream of her life. 

After seeing him to the door. Miss 
Rutherford stood watching him from the 
window, and when he had disappeared, she 
still stood, thoughtfully, till Carol called 
her. 

When Alois Vignon came upon them so 
suddenly, Annette, who was busy among 
the flowers, tried every conceivable means 
of escape. She had been careful to place 
her mistress’s chair well within the open 


The Vital Touch 


238 

space to enable her to watch her arrange- 
ments without inconvenience, so it was not 
till Miss Rutherford’s appearance caused a 
suffusion of interests that she squeezed 
through the door of her glass case like a 
mouse from a trap, and crept timorously 
along the walls, never looking to the right 
or left. Later she joined the cook, who 
was dressing the “left-overs” for a fresh 
appearance at the next day’s luncheon. 

“Whew!” exclaimed the maid, fanning 
her face vigorously with her apron. 
“Whew! I’m an exploded furnace, I am. 
I’m a kettle boiled up and running over. 
Wait till I tell you what I saw, and it wasn’t 
no fault of mine, neither. Miss Carol and 
me was in the conservatory. I was fixin’ 
the potted flowers and she was watching on 
when in comes a man — gollee — big he was — 
good looker too, and what do you think? 
Miss Carol she screamed a little when she 
saw him, and jumped up and threw her 
arms around his neck, and cried and cried. 
Then he put his arms around her and whis- 
pered something that made her cry more, 
and then he made her sit down and then it 
was all up with me. I couldn’t get out and 
it was awfully hot in there. He talked 
beautiful to her and knelt down by her and 
kissed her, and all the time he knew I was 


The Second Coming of Love 239 

there because I saw him look at me, but he 
didn’t care, and she knew I was there, but 
she didn’t care any more than he did. I 
didn’t count, ’cause there was only two 
folks in the whole world just then. But 
that’s not all. Oh no! that’s not all. Say, 
Miss Carol’s going to marry him — right 
now — to-day it seems like. I tried not to 
hear all of it but I did want to hear some 
of it ’cause he said it so nice. Say! you 
know that big fern that grew in the rockery? 
Well, I plumb spoiled it. I was peeking 
through the palms, and let it fall with a 
biff you’d a heard a block away. But I 
couldn’t help it any mor’n I could a-helped 
being there and — ” 

“Annette,” called Miss Rutherford, 
“take a glass of iced water up to Miss 
Carol’s room and see that she is made com- 
fortable for a quiet rest.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


JUST AS IT SHOULD BE 

The Saturday afternoon train, on which 
Alois was expected, had arrived but he was 
not on board. Father Vignon, who had 
made it a point to come to the city that 
morning so that he might have a little time 
with his brother after their long separation, 
stood doubtful and disappointed. How- 
ever, he managed to spend the next hour 
pleasantly enough, strolling about the sta- 
tion watching the restless wave of humanity 
float to and fro, and noting little incidents 
too insignificant for interest save when they 
serve to fill the void of time. Another train 
steamed in from the South; still no familiar 
face. ‘Tt is likely the Rutherfords have had 
some word,” thought he, which, on inquiry, 
he found was true. Alois had missed a 
train en route and expected to arrive at five 
o’clock. Miss Rutherford, he was told, felt 
obliged, in accordance with her promise, to 
go that evening. 


240 


Just as it Should Be 


241 


“Strange! very strange!” mused he, “the 
fates never tire of frowning down this 
match. It is the strife between spirit and 
matter which we shall never understand 
while the soul is encased in this vesture of 
decay.” 

But the fates relented and sent the bride- 
groom elect back on the next train. 

He swung himself off the still moving car, 
and scanned the crowd narrowly as he urged 
his way through it. 

Closely pressing as was the time, the 
brothers made many solicitous inquiries 
concerning each other. 

“You have heard from Miss Rutherford 
to-day, have you not?” Alois finally asked. 

The priest understood the indirect ques- 
tion and answered : 

“Yes, they are getting along tip-top, but 
let me tell you something concerning them 
and yourself as well. Miss Rutherford is 
going away at eight o’clock, and if you ex- 
pect to be a married man to-night you will 
have to make better speed than this.” 

“I shall be a married man to-night if there 
is no witness nearer than the north star,” 
answered the aspirant for matrimonial hon- 
ors, with a spirit that made the priest smile 
as he watched the eager lights dance and 
play in his face. 


242 


The Vital Touch 


^Tell the man to turn into the next street 
— through this alley — any way to escape 
these crowds,” he said quietly. 

After Alois gave the direction they fell to 
discussing the southern industrial school, in 
conclusion of which Father Vignon asked, 

“Now, young man, that you are about to 
settle down, what do you expect to do?” 

“What a question to ask a fellow with a 
wife and fifty colored girls on his hands,” 
he answered lightly. “But if you have 
asked me seriously what I intend to do, I 
must answer seriously that I don’t know. 
Just before leaving Paris I had a letter from 
Mr. Nichols to the effect that he was anx- 
ious to transfer his business interests, and 
proposing to give Gifford and me a chance. 
Of course I paid no attention to the matter, 
because at that time this place above all 
others in the world was the one I should 
have avoided. Mr. Nichols’ offer would 
make it possible for me to take care of our 
family capital far more advantageously than 
I have been able to do, the only obstacle 
being Carol’s determination to live in 
Georgia. However, I believe that by suffi- 
cient financial support things will run on 
smoothly down there without her constant 
supervision. I intend that they shall and I 
also intend to make her little school a suc- 
cess at any cost. It affected me deeply to 


Just as it Should Be 


243 


see how carefully she had laid her plans, but 
I am very much afraid that my flower will 
not thrive in southern soil.” 

Miss Rutherford, who had been on the 
anxious seat for some time, went out to meet 
them, while Carol stood well within the 
open door. Alois thought she was not so 
pale as when he saw her last. She looked 
like a hardy plant whose development had 
just set in. She was gowned in simple 
white, as she was at their first meeting, and 
as her color heightened with her animation, 
she looked much as she did on that occasion. 
Still he could see she was very far from her 
natural vigor. 

Miss Rutherford did not propose to waste 
time on unnecessary courtesies, and frankly 
said so ; nor would she tolerate any inquiries, 
no matter how important. As she hurried 
Alois away to the room she designated as 
his own, forever and a day, he called back: 

“Maurice will tell you about the settle- 
ment afifairs, Carol; and do jolly him up a 
little. He looks as if he were about to per- 
form a surgical operation.” 

Alois, of all persons, had no disposition to 
delay matters, and was soon again upon the 
scene. Scarcely had he reappeared when 
Father Vignon, making a sweeping gesture 
to the little group, which included the two 
housemaids, said: 


244 


The Vital Touch 


“Here are two luminous bodies, which, 
after wandering through space in opposite 
directions, now meet in complete circuit and 
blend into one orb of light.” 

“And Aunty and Rose and Annette are 
our satellites,” laughed Carol, meeting her 
betrothed half way across the room. 

“And Father Vignon?” questioned Miss 
Rutherford. 

“Father Vignon is the great spiritual 
light from which we shall draw strength 
and comfort,” she answered. 

After reading the customary short cere- 
mony, the priest added: 

“This is just as it should be. It is a love 
established in God and upon honor — a per- 
fect union symbolic of Christ and His 
Church, and by the grace of Almighty God 
may it ever remain blessed and holy.” 

He kissed the fair forehead of the bride, 
saying: 

“Sister, give this man, thy mate, the best 
of thy spiritual nature and his salvation is 
assured.” 

To her husband he said: 

“Brother, sanctify thy marriage by keep- 
ing in mind God’s holy purpose, for, ‘For 
this cause shall a man leave his father and 
mother and shall be joined unto his wife, 
that they two shall be one flesh.’ ” 


Just as it Should Be 245 

There was a joyous tone to the little wed- 
ding dinner, despite the serious circum- 
stance that occasioned its haste. Miss Ruth- 
erford suppressed her anxiety to depart, and 
the happiness of the young people was in- 
fectious. The low melody of the bride’s 
voice sounded like happy heart echoes and 
touched a responsive chord in every breast. 

‘T have reserved some good news for the 
last, very good news and welcome,” said 
Miss Rutherford at length, attempting to 
conceal her nervous haste. “I know you 
will all be happy to drink long life to the 
infant daughter of Janey and Lynn Gif- 
ford.” 

‘^And joy to her parents, God bless them !” 
said the priest. “When did this event take 
place?” he asked. 

“A"t four o’clock this afternoon.” 

“Is she black or white. Aunt Helen? 
Perhaps Alois brought her from the South,” 
said Carol. 

“I can prove an alibi,” he retorted, “and 
the last baby I saw is claimed by La Belle 
France.” 

It was a pleasant chance that the destina- 
tion of both departing relatives lay in the 
same direction. The married lovers stood 
on the veranda for some minutes after they 
had gone, in unbroken silence save as heart 


246 


The Vital Touch 


whispered to heart, awakening a thousand 
responses. There was no more need of 
words now than at their first meeting when 
soul met soul in lasting embrace. The 
swift, crowded, blissful minutes flew by on 
magic wing. Her head drooped upon his 
breast as languidly as a flower bends upon 
its sturdy stem. 

‘‘Look up,” he whispered at length. She 
raised her eyes to the dark face so near her 
own, and a happy brightness ran over their 
features as from the deeps of feeling surged 
the full tide of love. 

“Was there ever a stranger marriage than 
ours?” she asked. “Do you realize that we 
have never been alone together, not once in 
our lives, till now?” 

“Do I realize it?” he returned. “Do I 
realize it? Except the one brief moment at 
Lynnwood on the night of the storm, we 
have never been alone before.” 

He led her in to the spot where they had 
stood to be married, where, with mutual 
throb and impulse they stood clasped in 
each other’s arms in natural, passionate sur- 
render, one to the other, in relief from the 
stress of years, in joy of sudden possession. 

And thus it was that man and woman, ani- 
mated by God’s Vital Touch, were drawn 
together, in fulfillment of a purpose which 
is HIS divine plan of life. 


Brownes 

Standard Elocution 

By PROF. I. H. BROWN 


89 SPECIAL 
ILLUSTRATIONS 

A complete and com- 
prehensive work 

For Schools, 
Public Speakers 

and 

Entertainments. 


Drillls in pronunciation 
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Many Selections of Famous Poems and Prose 
Examples. Full instructions (with drawings) 
in Respiration, Voice Pitch, Stress, Gestures. 

The Expression of Face, Hands, Posture/ etc., 
etc., explained and illustrated. 

Extra cloth, 12mo, 270 pages, . $ 1 *00 


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■ n .. 

The Standard American 

DRAWING ; LEHERING BOOK 

By PETER IDARIUS 

A New Work Adapted to the Needs of Experienced 
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36 Plates, showing 
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WEBSTER'S 

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PERSONALITY IN SALESMANSHIP IS 

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Standard Recipes 

=■• ■ ■ FOR - - : ^ 

Ice Cream Mahers 

Wholesale and Retail 

By VAL MILLEB 

[36 Years an Ice Cream Makek 


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